


How to become a (nice) vampire in 10 days

by MorganeUK



Series: Vampires BBC Sherlock AU [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Eventual Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, M/M, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade Fluff, Protective Mycroft, Vampire Mycroft, Vampire Sherlock, sick lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganeUK/pseuds/MorganeUK
Summary: After something bad happened, Mycroft Holmes must help Greg to get his life back.Even if the only way to help him is to open himself like he never did before...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Vampires BBC Sherlock AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654615
Comments: 117
Kudos: 139





	1. An otherwise perfect day.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lijahlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lijahlover/gifts), [Morgendaemmerung89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgendaemmerung89/gifts).



> A little gift to the readers who asked for a sequel, even if it's probably not what you were expected!
> 
> Beta read by the wonderful Notjustmom!
> 
> I am not the owner or curator or fake wife of Sherlock, John, etc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes life can shift in a moment. Even if you are undead.

A smug look on his face, Holmes walked between a horde of protesters, trying to access his office without wrinkling his pristine suit. The guards were able to keep them away, but it was a nuisance. A small nuisance in an otherwise perfectly tuned day. The man in charge murmured in his boss’ ear, loud enough to be heard despite the screaming crowd, “sorry, Mister Holmes, are you sure you don’t want us to stop all this?”

“Don’t worry Higgins, it’s their right to protest, it is a free country after all.” He shook his head a bit annoyed, “but blocking the path of the car was a bit rash, I don’t like walking so early in the morning.” Keeping his eyes on the entrance of his building, he doesn’t need to read the messages as he was going to have a full report before the end of the day, he frowned at the idea that all his staff will be submitted to the same treatment.  _ Tedious, we are no longer in the 19 _ _ th _ _ century! _ Even if the Parliament Act of 1957 said that a vampire is a human and that any discrimination against them is punished by a threat of a fine or prison, religious groups constantly urged for a return to family values and the exclusion of vampires from the public life.  _ They haven’t realised that it’s already too late, we are already everywhere. _

“I’m going to make sure that the path is clear before the end of the day,” as he pushed the protesters a bit further away.

“Perfect but don’t forget to be gentle, we don’t want bad press.” It was a cloudy day and, even with his cool blood, the strong wind was cold on his pale skin. “Please get tea for your men, Higgins, I don’t want them to get sick.”

“I will, Sir. Have a nice day.”

“You too, good luck with our little… friends.”

Mycroft Holmes was a busy man. Or a busy vampire if you wanted to be technical. Once inside his office, he started to work without thinking about the manifestation outside.

“Anthea, do you have everything for tomorrow's meeting with the PM?” The number of papers, folders, and other documents on the reunion table was staggering. The law that his office was lobbying the government for was challenging, a complete revision of the 1957 Parliament Act. Less paperwork to convert a spouse to vampirism, changes to the working condition...  _ Some employers abused the fact that we don’t need as much sleep. This is ridiculous! And who knows, maybe Sherlock is going to ask John if… _ Stretching his back, Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying a small pause while his PA looked for the files. Thinking about how strange it was that his baby brother had someone in his life.  _ He lived alone, with the exception of Ms Hudson, for a century and suddenly, that seemingly average man changed everything. I wonder if, one day, I am going –  _ Opening his eyes, he pushed the idiotic idea away _. Who would want me? And for eternity? It is ludicrous. _

His reflection was cut short by Anthea. She walked back in the room her arms full of documents and dropped everything on the table. “Can’t believe we have paper copies of the whole thing. Sometimes, I think that some of us are a bit too afraid of new technologies.”

“Coming from someone who is in love with her Blackberry, I am sure that you have no bias at all my dear.”  __

She pointed at a phone that was buzzing relentlessly in the otherwise silent room. “Don’t tell me you don’t like your phone!” Smiling, the young woman picked it up and placed it near her boss. The messages were still coming in, the incessant noise starting to play on Holmes’ nerves.

“It’s your brother, Sir,” she chuckled, “it looks… important.”

“If it’s important, he’s going to call –“ The personalized ringtone of his brother – an excerpt of Sherlock playing the violin – interrupted him.  _ That day! _ “Yes, brother mine, I am in the middle of –“

“I can’t talk, just read your text!” Sherlock murmured before hanging up.

_ What?  _ Opening his text application, he went back to his last discussion with his brother and read.

> 16:05  Do you know anything about Lestrade’s whereabouts? SH
> 
> 16:06 I am on the track of a criminal, he was supposed to be there, but I can’t find him. SH
> 
> 16:07  Be useful, have your minions check your CCTV. SH
> 
> 16:08  Don’t lie, I know that you are keeping track on us. SH
> 
> 16:09  Especially on him, you rascal. SH
> 
> 16:09  We are looking into a gang that works with Moriarty. SH
> 
> 16:10  I know you told me to let it go but I can’t! SH
> 
> 16:10  He threatened John! SH
> 
> 16:10  How dare he! SH
> 
> 16:11  I think that he’s working with renegade vampires. SH
> 
> 16:12  Have you heard something new from the London coven? SH
> 
> 16:13  Mycroft!! SH
> 
> 16:14  Give me something SH
> 
> 16:17  I think that I found them SH
> 
> 16:18  Shit, I need help! SH
> 
> 16:19  Reply, I can’t talk SH
> 
> 16:18  NOW SH

Stepping up, Holmes called “Anthea! Do we have a location on DI Lestrade and my brother? Track their phones, NOW!”

_ 30 minutes later… _

Mycroft kneeled near his brother, talking to him as if he was but a child, “Sherlock, you must leave now.” He pressed a hand on his cheek, pushing softly to turn his head away from the scene and murmured soothingly, “don’t look brother mine, don’t… you are only hurting yourself.” The rumours around them were getting louder and louder, the dark lane teaming with angry cops and a curious crowd. Since his arrival, 15 minutes ago, it was getting worse. The images of today’s manifestation still running on his head, he tried to convince the detective. “It’s not safe, they are going to turn on you, you know it’s always like that… We always come back to the witches’ hunt.” Still not getting any reaction, he tried the only card left. “Since we don’t know what happened, it’s not safe for  _ John _ either.” At these words, Sherlock jerked to search for his partner who luckily was only a few meters away. Breathing deeply again, Mycroft raised from the ground and holding both men near him as if he was engulfing them within his protective aura, he offered, “go home, get lost for a bit. Don’t worry about me, I’m going to be okay. Go, I will keep you informed.”

Sherlock nodded, knowing that the ancestral home of the Holmes was the best place for them… to protect John.

The doctor, knowing that something utterly bad was happening without grasping the extent of it, placed his smaller hand in Sherlock’s one. “We are going to take Hudders with us… Okay, love?”

“Yes… yes… of course.” The vampire murmured, his eyes hovering endlessly at the end of the lane were still full of tears, “but… I can’t… I can’t leave this like that... No...” Not wanting to elaborate in front of his non-v boyfriend, his eyes found Mycroft’s for a silent exchange. An understanding of what needs to be done.

“Don’t worry,” Mycroft said, solemnly, “I am going to take care of everything.”


	2. An escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After confirmation that Sherlock and John are secure, Mycroft must get quickly out of town as well.

He was 50 kilometres away from London when Mycroft finally was able to breathe calmly. The beautiful and peaceful surroundings became a balm to the stressed man, even if he wasn't able to admire the view as the night was slowly falling. _Nobody is going to look for me in Chiltern Hills, Anthea erased my car from all the national road CCTV and rogue vampires are found mainly in big cities. I am safe for now, I think._ He looked nervously in his rear-view mirror, afraid of what may lurk behind him even if he knew he shouldn’t worry. _The tank of the Rover is full, I have few a jerricans to avoid any break at a station… I am okay._ He watched behind nervously, unable to stop. _What an awful day, I still can't believe it…_

_2 hours before._

The odours in the large room were awful. A mix of dry blood, rotten flesh and cheap perfumes. Trying to remain stoic as he waited for his meeting, Mycroft couldn’t hide a little frown. _This is disgusting, to think that people live like this._ He turned at the sound of a small crowd entering the room, motioning the two men he brought with him to stay calm. _Here you go, the Dark King and the idiots in his suite…_

Walking across the room to sit on his throne, the leader wore the smirk of someone who knows a secret that you don’t. “Mycroft! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“You certainly know what I am doing here, Frederic. Don’t insult my intelligence.” Holmes paused, waiting a moment until the makeshift king started wiggling on his ‘throne’ under his stare. “What. Was. That.”

“I have no idea of –“

Walking a step nearer, Mycroft icily dropped, “St Swithin’s Lane.”

“In the City?” Frederic deadpanned, trying to stay on top of the discussion even if he knew that it was impossible to win against Mycroft Holmes. _That posh sold-out traitor doesn’t deserve everything that he has!_

“Yes, in the City, far away from your usual hunting territory, wouldn’t you say.” Casually, he stepped a bit closer.

Shaking, his opponent hid behind his chair. “Don’t move!” A few of his men – a poor assortment of vampires and hired criminals – stepped in front of him to protect their king. Clearly unaware that Holmes’ power was not in physical assault, but in mind games. Besides, he had brought his best two bodyguards with him.

“I know it was your gang, I have proof. But what I want to know is why.”

“We had no choice,” one of the younger vampires muttered, clearly impressed by Mycroft’s poise.

“Oh… that’s interesting, my friend.”

“Shut-up!” an older man shouted as he smacked the other. “I know what you are doing Holmes, you are playing mind games, you want us to say… things.”

“We have a good _entente_ , no? You have the right to kill the non-v that are on the list you received… You have a provision of real blood discreetly provided by the NHS… Why did you jeopardize everything?” The anger the usually stoic man was feeling was obvious. “You are not that bright, who gave you that contract?”

“Nobody!” The three centuries-old vampire protested, piqued. “I am two hundred years older than you, Holmes, and the king of London Covent, respect me!”

“I am, I know that life nowadays is… hard… for some of us. This is why I am allowing your… little gang to stay alive.” He spotted a few new faces, “but not to grow your ranks!”

“People are joining voluntarily,” the kind argued, pointing at Mycroft, “you weren’t that different when you made a deal with me, remember?”

“It was a different time,” stretching at his full height, the government official steered the conversation away from his own story. “Who paid you? And ‘ _The enemies are going to pay... beware_ ’ writing in blood on the wall,” he chuckled, “who asked you to go all Harry Potter? Who wants to initiate a war with the non-v?”

“No one, we are able to plan things, you know.” One of Frederic’s lieutenants shouted.

“Yes, we are not imbeciles!” Another added as the little gang hissed.

“SHUT UP! Someone asked you to do this knowing that my brother was going to be there.” Stepping only a meter away from his sire, Mycroft muttered coldly, “I am going to be on your back, no more _Get out of_ _Jail Free cards_ , the world has changed and this is going to be the end for all of you.”

Frederic, afraid, murmured without moving his lips, “Moriarty… the name is Moriarty.”

With a smirk, Holmes shook his head in disgust, “you received orders from a non-v, does your little… court… know that?”

“We need the money and…” Talking more loudly, the king foolishly challenged the younger man. “You are too powerful, Holmes, too disconnected from what it means to be a vampire.” The others nodded vigorously as he added, “an outcast, a creature of the night.”

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft didn’t say a word about the outdated view of vampirism the Coven was still rooting for _. Now, we must talk seriously_. “You attacked civilians, policemen… regular people. It can’t go unpunished.”

“I heard that your brother was on site, I hope that his little friends won’t turn against –“

The time it took to Holmes to strangle the other vampire was too short for him or any of his associates to react. His voice was heavy and raw, “don’t you dare talk about my brother like that. Now, listen to me. I need a scapegoat for cleaning that mess, I expect one of yours to present itself at Scotland Yard by tomorrow night.” As the man tried to protest, he squeezed just a bit more while the king’s men are kept at bay by his heavily armed guards, “tomorrow night.”

“I will,” the renegade abdicated with a feeble voice, “whatever you want, just ask. I am sorry, so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Releasing his hand, he patted the man down as if he were a dog... before asking one last thing.

  
  


Eyes back on the road, Mycroft chided himself. _I must stop looking behind. Nearly a thousand kilometres between London and the cabin, it’s going to be okay._

He rode quasi non-stop for hours and hours, listening to classical music to keep his thoughts away from the situation he was in. Stopping only to change his licence plate to avoid recognition and put fuel. Keeping the 4x4 out of the major routes, he rushed through Birmingham, the Peak District Park, south of Manchester, a small detour by the Lake District before taking the A76 in the direction of Glasgow. Carefully, he embarked on the M8 to avoid the city and moved towards the Erskine Bridge to get on the north shore of the Clyde in direction of the Highlands. Breathing finally, he started to relax a bit, thinking that it was his last moment of liberty for the next two weeks.

Chuckling as he turned around the modern Stoneymollan roundabout sculpture of flying geese to access the Trossachs National Park, he waited for the inevitable phone call from his PA. The silly tradition a welcoming distraction from the current ordeal. His phone, a burner phone untraceable that he mounted to the dash, vibrated with an incoming call.

“Hello dear.”

“Hello sir, everything going smoothly?”

“So far, yes,” unable to restrain himself, he checked once more in his rear mirror.

“And are the hideous birds still there?” 

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I think you are going to need more than a Facebook campaign to get rid of it you know.” The woman hated the modern sculpture at the entrance of the national park with a passion.

“Yes, I know… Road and car are a good amelioration but, roundabouts are a devilish invention! And that ugly sculpture!”

Laughing for the first time since he left his office to go check on his brother, he protested, “I know that you found horses more romantic but –“

“I know, I know, I remember that it took days to go to Scotland.” She sighed theatrically before getting back to business. “I erased your trace, don’t worry. Everything is ready for you at the cottage, the house is clean and warm, you have a good provision of wood and everything that you like as well as all the essentials.”

“Thank you, Anthea, you are, as always, perfect.”

The young woman standing in Holmes’ office hundreds of kilometres away, replied, her voice laced with affection, “my mentor is the best man I know.”

“Oh, you’ve been mentored by someone else as well, I am chagrined.” Mycroft jokes, uneasy at the compliment. 

Without acknowledging the deflective attitude of her boss, she continued. “I talked with Sherlock, they are at the Manor and everything is calm. I upgraded the security surrounding the house of course.”

“Perfect, thank you.” He remained silent a minute, as his car accelerated to double a bus, “did he... did he talk to you about what happened.”

“He said exactly what you told me. It was too late when he arrived, but he recognized one of Frederic’s men. He also thinks it’s linked to Moriarty.”

“Keep your eyes on him, would you, I don’t want him to go on some sort of vendetta.”

“I will, don’t worry. Be careful yourself, would you, I would hate to have to learn the habits and quirks of another boss.”

“I will, everything is going to be fine. If someone asks for me, I am out of the country for two weeks.”

“Perfect, I am going to say that you are in Hawaii getting a tan.”

Mycroft closed the line, satisfied that his London’s office and his brother were in good hands.

The last hundred kilometres were eventless. The small detour to arrive at his destination by the North side of the park instead of simply following the A84 had paid off. The road was deserted at that time of the year and, as it was following a beautiful loch, for a moment he allowed himself to forget why he was in Scotland at this unusual time of the year and admired the sunrise. _I drove all night._ Once his detour came to an end, he drove down for ten minutes until a discreet road crossed the autoroute. Getting away from Balquhidder, famous for Rob Roy’s grave, he followed the Loch Voil until a nearly unnoticeable path at his right. 

After fifteen minutes on a rocky private country lane, the cottage finally appeared. Nearly hidden behind a small valley, it was perfect. A small puff of smoke was coming from both fireplaces, keeping the old whitewashed house warm and inviting. Sighing at the view of his favourite retreat, he stopped the Rover in front of the main door.

A sturdy man walked out as soon as the car came to a halt. “Good morning Mister Holmes! Everything is ready.” 

His wife, a delicate young woman with splendid red hair, smiled proudly. “The house is clean, the fires are roaring, and everything else is as Miss Anthea asked.”

“Peter! Carol!” Stretching his back and arms, Mycroft extended his hand for a good shake and submitted himself to a quick hug from the woman. “Thank you to both of you, it was short notice, I am so sorry.”

Tears in her eyes, Carol murmured, “it’s horrible to think that… how is it possible for people to be so cruel.”

“Don’t worry, my love,” the man comforted his wife, “if the situation is in the hand of Mister Holmes, it’s going to be alright.” Turning his attention on the car, he asked grimly, “need help, sir, or…”

Pressing his hands on his face to chase the horror of the day, Mycroft nodded sadly. “Yes, probably better, you never know…” Taking his key, he opened the back of the car where a man was laying as comfortably as possible for a wounded man tied down with heavy chains. His eyes popped open at the sudden brightness; the usual warm whisky colour of his irises obliviated by panic.

A pang of sadness in his heart, the vampire held the other man’s terrorized gaze, “I am really sorry Lestrade, don’t worry, everything is going to be fine…”


	3. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of the rest of Greg’s (eternal) life

The little shrill noise of the kettle called Mycroft back to the small kitchen. Dropping his book, he walked back to the countertop to pour water in the terracotta teapot. Far from his usual Royal Doulton china set, but it was perfectly suited for the rugged cottage. Turning the hourglass to be sure to not over-steep the tea, he opened the fridge for a little something to eat. Not considering the ready-to-drink fake blood, he smiled as he spotted one of Carol’s succulent cakes.  _ God knows I need a treat.  _ Pushing his guilt away, he sliced a small portion and – after pouring himself a nice cuppa of perfect tea – he crossed the floor to sit back in the settee near one of the narrow windows. The rain that started once they entered the house six hours ago was still going on, the little pitter-patter soothing on his tired mind. Knowing that it was probably his last moment of relaxation for a long time, he reopened his book and fell back into a glorious swashbuckler story.

A few chapters later, as the cake mysteriously vanished, he stood up to get more tea. Rolling his head and shoulders still stiff from the long journey, he stopped at the bottom of the rudimental staircase, the cup still in hand. Looking up, he waited… but the only noise was the rain that was still pouring down the slate roof.  _ Maybe I can go upstairs to check that everything is okay and unpack my things.  _ Nodding resolutely, he put down the mug and silently went up. His senses on alert, he listened carefully to check if Lestrade was up before turning to the left to go in his bedroom where Peter left his luggage. Opening his bag, he first removed a few folders containing his notes and reports on Moriarty, his computer then – silently swearing a bit - he untied all the different cables.  _ We must find a way to make electricity completely wireless… We can do it for phones, why can’t they do it for computers! _ The few personal items quickly found their usual place in the en-suite. Taking the suit bag, he hung it in his room’s large armoire.  _ I don’t know why Anthea put a suit in the car, I won’t need one for the next weeks. All that I need is here _ . He already knows what the wardrobe contained: corduroy trousers, cotton shirts, tweed jackets and an assortment of socks and underwear. Everything needed to play the country gentleman and all freshly laundered and pressed of course. 

He was about to go back downstairs when a scream of rage resonated in the confined space. Opening the door after a courtesy knock, Mycroft entered the DI’s temporary bedroom.

“My, Mycroft!” Lestrade stuttered in amazement looking around haphazardly, “I thought it was a dream, I saw you… I was in the trunk of –“

A bit ashamed, Holmes smiles mirthlessly, “yes, sorry about that DI Lestrade… it couldn’t be avoided.”

“WHAT! So it was real!” He tried to get up from the bed but was pulled down by the weight of the chains around his feet and hands. “You are crazy Holmes, wait until your brother –“ Realising that Sherlock must already know his predicament, he swore heavily. “I want to talk with Sherlock or John, RIGHT NOW!” He shook his chains, “and remove these chains!”  _ What the Hell is going on? I can’t remember a thing! _

“I’m sorry to say that it’s impossible to talk with them at the moment, furthermore, you are not in a state fit for any actual rational discussion.” After a pause, he stated, “and I do apologise, but the chains must stay.”

The calm and authoritative voice, that he usually secretly found pretty damn sexy, only annoyed the detective inspector. “I need answers! What happened? You are not above the law! You’ve got one chance to get this right, Holmes: what’s going on?”

Acting as if he didn’t hear Lestrade rambling, Mycroft stood near the bed to look at the wounds.  _ This is healing nicely, but he is going to be more comfortable after a good clean-up, we should have done that when he was still under the new dose of tranquiliser. _ He sighed, sorry about his negligence.  _ A bit too late for that. _ An unexpected warmth spread in his body at the idea of washing the beautiful older man’s body _. It can’t be me. Maybe I can ask Carol or Peter _ ? Getting his phone to text Peter, he pondered, _ what worse for a normal man when you are diminished, being washed by a woman or by a sturdy man? Anyway, Peter won’t let Carol out of his sight near Lestrade.  _ “You need to wash up a bit, feeling disgusting doesn’t help the morale at all.”

Laughing sarcastically, Greg protested, “as if not being up to your cleanliness standard was my only problem! You bastard -”

Holding a hand in the air, Mycroft interrupted, “we don’t need profanity, DI Lestrade, I promise that everything is going to be explained as soon as you are cleaned and in fresh clothes.”

Knowing that he was defeated for the moment, Greg frowned angrily. “Where does all this blood come from anyway?”

Not answering, the vampire asked, “you won’t be able to wash yourself while being restrained, of course. I can offer you the help of the couple who takes care of the house for us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, this is one of the Holmes properties.” He smirked, “you are in Sherlock’s room right now.”

Unexpectedly tired and feeling disgusting now that he realised the state he’s in, Gregory nodded. “Okay, but after that, you will talk!”

“I will. But you must promise me, for their security, not to engage in conversation with Peter and Carol.”

Closing his eyes to forget the humiliating situation that was coming up, he nodded and waited, trying to remember what happened to him. He was out in two minutes.

The sweet murmur of a song in Gaelic brought him back, smiling at the comforting voice he jerked when he felt hands on him. “What’s going on?”

Heavy hands immobilized his arms completely as a cute forty-something woman stepped back, “no funny business.”

Intimidated by the protective bulky man, Lestrade murmured, “uh… sorry. I guess.”

“Peter, it’s okay, he was only surprised that’s all.” Showing the sponge in her hand, she smiled, “can I go on?”

“Yes, sorry, it’s not your fault.” He remained stoic as the thorough clean-up continued. “Where’s Holmes?”

“ _ Mister _ Holmes is in his room, waiting for us to finish,” the pretty lady explained. “I think it’s going to be enough for now, I don’t think we can wash your hair at the moment.”

Greg looked down his body. He was naked except for his close-fitting pants, with only a white sheet to protect his modesty. Lifting the sheet, he spotted small well-cicatrized scars peppered all over his torso and forearms.  _ Where is this coming from? I don’t remember. _ “Can I have some clothes, I’m kind of cold.” _ The Hell I am talking to Holmes dressed like this! _

“Yes, of course,” the woman said as she opened an armoire.

Lestrade nearly chuckled at the view of sportswear and jeans next to a few suits.  _ Sherlock’s room, this is ridiculous. _ In another situation, he would have been thrilled by the possibility of learning more about his friend.  _ My EX-friend _ , he corrected silently.

“Ha!” Carol exclaimed when she found what she was looking for. It was a well-cut tracksuit and a long sleeve t-shirt. To Greg’s dismay, they were specialized items for handicapped people. With a swift movement, the small woman opened the sides of the bottom and the t-shirt to allow her husband to dress their ‘guest’ without removing any of the chains.  _ God, I hate this. _

Once everything was in place, Peter nodded in satisfaction for a job well done. Opening the door of the room, he called, “Mister Holmes, he’s ready.” Before leaving, he moved a padded chair near the bed and murmured to Greg, “don’t worry, sir, you are in good hands.”

Without a word, Mycroft entered the room and sat in a comfy chair. The inspector, now fully awake, watched him carefully, noting the differences from this man and the version he usually seemed to be. He was still in his London attire, but the jacket, waistcoat and tie were out of the way.  _ He looked so different, more approachable… What am I doing here, what is HE doing here with ME? _ Uneasy, it was his first time of seeing the man so ‘undressed’, Greg was suddenly unable to utter a word.

“Are you hungry?” The politician asked affably as if they were in a meeting or something.

“Hungry, no, not really. Not at all in fact.”

_ Stage 1 _ . “I assume you have questions?”

Rolling his eyes, the inspector muttered, “yes, you can safely assume that…”

Mycroft crossed his legs as if he had all the time in the world without acknowledging Greg’s attitude. “Maybe you can start telling me what you remember from yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”  _ It was yesterday… _ “Okay but first, where are we?”

“In a secluded place a few hours from London.”  _ The less he knows for now, the better. _ “Sherlock and I use this place to relax when life is a bit… too much.”

“Together?” Greg deadpanned, unable to stop himself.

“No, we come here to relax, so usually we are not here at the same time. Especially since John, of course.”

The policeman chuckled but winced as he tried to sit.  _ Damn chains!  _ “Is this really essential?”

“Yes, I am sorry it is, let me help you.” Holding the chains, Mycroft guided Gregory until he was able to sit, his back comfortable against the padded headboard. “Better?”

After a nearly inaudible ‘yes’, the inspector pointed in the direction of a carafe. “Water, please.” He drank slowly, barely noticing the strange taste, and put his ideas in place.  _ What happened yesterday... As if it was possible to explain everything. _

“When you are ready, DI Lestrade,” Holmes nudged, a bit impatient.

“Okay, yes, so… It was mid-afternoon when we received an anonymous message about some commotion in the City. A bit like a gang fight or something like that.” He paused, turning his gaze away from the vampire, “I usually don’t take care of things like that, not my division, but the rumours said a vampire with dark hair was present so… I needed to be there in case Sherlock was in trouble, you know.”

“Your friendship with my brother has always been of great comfort for me, I’m taking the opportunity to thank you for everything you do.” He eyed the chains, “even if my… hospitality may not look like it reflects my opinion at the moment.”

Touched by the personal tone of the secretive man’s voice, Greg continued, “I texted Sherlock to know where he was, not wanting him there if we had to deal with rogue vamp-“ He stopped, unable to talk openly against vampires in front of a man he always respected. (The current status of this respect was a bit unclear at the moment.)

“Don’t censor yourself, I know of the existence of rogue components in my… community.”

_ Of course, he knows about them. _ “I didn’t want either John or him to be there when we are arresting or investigating vampires… he has usually helped in the past but… discreetly.”

“This is a good practice. People,” the disdain was clearly audible, “can be so backwards sometimes. They are able to badly judge a vampire that helps to catch a criminal vampire, but the idea to do the same if it was non-v is ridiculous.  _ Deux poids, deux mesures _ , as usual.”

_ Double standards, he’s right. _ “So I arrived at the place with two men, you know St Smithin’s Lane? Kind of posh, except for the entrance of a Travelodge. At that time of the day – afternoon on a workday – it was mostly deserted. Nothing wrong, except when we arrived at the New Court passage, you know the big metallic wall?” Mycroft knew all that, the location, the time, but he let Lestrade continue. “Two men were there, writing in red paint on the wall. Relaxed, as if they were waiting for someone, waiting for us…”

Without explaining that the paint was in fact human blood, the vampire nodded. “I saw the writing,  _ The enemies are going to pay... beware.” _

“Yes, that’s it. I showed them my badge, but they laughed… One of my men tried to arrest them but was pushed hard against the granite part of the wall. Is he… is he all right?”

“He is still recovering from a severe concussion, but he’s going to recover fully I was assured.”

“Thank you,” Lestrade sighed, “we called for backup, but it was too late. They attacked a woman – a tourist I think – and killed her instantly. It was horrible, I… the noise… he… he broke her neck just like that.” He snapped his fingers, “I know that you are somewhat stronger but, it was horrible. He killed her as if she was nothing.” Closing his eyes as the images flooded his mind, he muttered sadly, “people started to arrive, the screaming of the woman’s husband a beacon in the otherwise silent lane.” He drank a bit more, his throat raw. “I don’t remember that much after that, I looked for Sherlock, hoping that he was nowhere near that place. I was trying to stop the other one, he was threatening the crowd when the first grabbed me from behind.” The helpless feeling of being useless still present, Greg gave his glass to Mycroft, afraid of dropping it. “I don’t really know what happened after, I think I fainted.”

“I can give you a bit more if you wish to know,” Holmes said, pondering on what he could and couldn’t tell the man. “Let’s just say that these two vampires are renegades and not a shining example of a modern vampire.” The fury in his eyes was scarcely masked. “It appeared that my brother received a text saying that you were waiting for him a few streets away before receiving another one indicating for him to go to this place at once.”

“No!”

“Yes,” Mycroft face was sombre, “he told me that he arrived in the middle of a furious crowd, with two victims on the ground as well as many others wounded.” He voluntarily remained silent about the fact that Lestrade himself was considered one of the victims. “Your sergeant, that horrible woman, called as soon as she saw him ‘Freak! Look at what your lot have done!’” Bile rolled in Holmes’ mouth as the face of his brother when he found him appeared in his mind. “I arrived maybe five minutes later… He was cornered by a mad crowd, too confused and… saddened to do something. John kept the people – a mix of policemen and citizens – away as far as possible but… it was difficult.” The scene was horrible, it was a perfect example of public hysteria. “My men were able to disperse the crowd and I was finally able to reach my brother. After a discussion where my last argument was that he needed to go to get John out of that place, he finally relented and left… the crime scene.”

“I don’t understand, Sherlock is able to protect himself! Why did he stay there, without doing anything?”

“He was worried…” Mycroft knew that he couldn’t keep the news from him any longer, not when the time left was flying away, “about you.”

“I fainted, that no big deal, I presumed that John looked at me before the crowd turned mental and –“

“You’ve been bitten, Lestrade, this is why my brother was so shocked.” As Greg remained silent, he continued softly, “I am so very sorry. You, among all men, did not deserve that.”

“But, I don’t remember…” He touched his neck, looking for the tale-telling punctures. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“Nothing that you are going to face alone, I promise you that. Let’s just say, today is the first day of the rest of your eternal life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts?


	4. Day 1, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg doesn’t know what to think… and a deal is made.

_Eternal life._ The words kept causing havoc in his thoughts. Unable to comprehend the mere idea that he was bitten and that he was going to turn into one of _them_ , he stuttered, “That’s… that’s not true.” _I know it’s true, but it can’t be! Not me!_

“Are you hungry?” Mycroft asked again, softly. The softest tone Greg ever heard from the powerful man outside of private moments with his brother or, to a certain extent, Anthea, that he was privileged enough to see.

Without thinking, Lestrade replied annoyingly, “no, I’m not.” After a few minutes where he remained aloof, he turned to look at the other man. Paralyzed. “I’ve skipped yesterday’s dinner and this morning breakfast. Why, _why_ am I not hungry?”

The vampire sighed. “It’s one of the first signs, later you are going to -”

Not wanting to know too much for now, Greg interrupted curtly, “okay, don’t want you to elaborate for now.” He waited, trying to comprehend the fact that he’s going to need blood now. _Blood._ Split between the need to know everything and his fear, unable to stop his rage and incomprehension, he muttered angrily, “I can’t believe that I’m going to have to drink blood, like an… an animal!”

Mycroft inhaled slowly, knowing that it was only Gregory’s anxiety talking. “You are going to be okay, don’t worry, you are not alone.”

“Alone? I am not ALONE!” Rolling his eyes, he stomped his back on the headboard angrily. “Good Grace, is that supposed to help?” He was desperate at the idea of becoming a member of what is often viewed by the non-v as a group of murderers. _My job is to find killers, not become one!_

“Better to be with someone that cares,” Mycroft mumbled peacefully, “than being abandoned on your own.”

Curious, Lestrade pushed the nagging pain that was building in his stomach, as well as the fury that he knew was lurking in the back of his mind, and asked, “is it what happened to you?”

Shifting his face back to his usual mask, the vampire tried again to convey the next steps and explained emotionlessly. “You are probably feeling dizzy right now, with stomach burns… Don’t worry, it’s normal. Your body is fighting against the last remnant of the food you still have in your stomach. Sorry to say that the few hours won’t be… pretty.”

The little disgusted frown Mycroft made was all the explanation Greg’s needed. _Oh God, that sounds disgusting… And I am attached to this damn bed!_ “But, will I be allowed to go to the loo?”

“No, sorry, not going to happen.” Looking at the titles in the bookshelves on the wall right beside his chair, he continued as if he was talking about the weather. “Just let me know when… when you’ll need to… you know… do that. I’ll ask Peter to assist you.”

“I won’t do anything reckless, you know. Why can’t you remove the chain.” Lestrade’s voice was uncustomarily pleading.

“Because newborn vampires can’t be trusted. _They_ are prone to rash and violent actions. It’s nothing against you.” 

Greg shuddered at the words, he realized that Mycroft used ‘they’ instead of ‘you’ to ease the news, but it was horrible anyway. “That’s… that’s the first stage then?” The policeman asked, his voice shaking. Fighting his tremor with a little smirk, he shook his head, “I’m going to have a bad temper and shit myself. Not really glamorous.”

The older vampire chuckled, “no, not really. You’ve got to wait a bit for the whole Robert Pattinson slash Brad Pitt aura.”

Laughing at the pop culture reference, the detective relaxed for the first time since he woke up. “You, Mycroft Holmes, you know who they are?”

“Of course,” the vampire retorted, wounded, “it’s my job to know everything about our community!”

“WHAT! They are both REAL vampires?”

“Yes, of course, what do you think was going on with them, one extremely good night cream?” Wanting to keep Lestrade morale up, as long as it was possible, Mycroft murmured like a conspirator, “do you want to know more about who’s hiding it…”

It was late when the topic of the gossip – real or false – was exhausted.

Tired, even if he spent his day in bed, Lestrade motioned a hand in the direction of the bookshelves. “Anything good to read?”

Mycroft sadly shook his head, “not really, mostly chemistry and botanic books.”

“Oh yes, Sherlock’s room…” Without thinking of his restraints, Greg tried to lay back more comfortably in the bed. “Just tell me he didn’t _slept_ in this bed with John.” As Mycroft remained prudently silent, the detective growled. “Oh no… I can’t remove the idea of my mind now!”

Automatically, the vampire stepped to help the poor man. _It is further now, the body aches, he’s restless but unable to really move. One good thing, he’s going to crash soon._ “Lestrade, I must assure you that the idea of my brother’s intimate relation with his partner is… something that I don’t like to ponder at all. I am of course extremely happy for him.”

“Of course,” the detective closed his eyes, trying to calm a fire that started under his eyes, “I am happy also, you know, he deserved it. Just hope that the sheets were washed thoroughly.” He sighed as a fresh hand touched his feverish forehead.

“Your eyes are killing you, I bet,” Mycroft murmured, “I’ve got something for that.” Taking anaesthetic eyes-drops from his pocket, he delicately opened Gregory’s eyelids before dropping a few drops in each eye. “Is it better?”

“Yes,” Lestrade murmured, “read me something would you?”

Sitting back, Holmes drank a few sips of the tea he fetched when Peter came in to help Lestrade and turned to read the titles of the books on his brother's shelves. “You’ve got the choice between ‘The flora of the Eastern Highland’ or ‘Investigation Chemistry: In the laboratory.”

“God, give me a chance…” Lestrade opened his eyes briefly, “what do you read in your free time.”

“Me?” Holmes frowned at the strangely personal question. “I… I read mostly political reports and –“

“Mycroft, I can call you Mycroft now don’t you think, just reply to my simple question,” the policeman chided, knowing that the other man was fibbing.

“When I have time or when I want to relax, I mostly read French novelists of the 19th century, especially Dumas.”

“Ah, yes, The Three Musketeers kind of story,” a deep cough interrupted him, “it’s your style, it suits you I think.”

“I am currently reading Le Bossu by Féval, do you want me to...” As Lestrade nodded, the vampire extended a hand for his book. “I don’t think your French is sound enough, so I am going to translate in English as I read if you want.”

“You are too good for me, Mycroft.”

“Okay,” it was odd for the younger yet older man. _Last time I read that book for someone, it was for Sherlock._ “You don’t know the story, I think,” he waited for a faint ‘no’ from Lestrade, “so… it’s simple, quite basic story, an adventurer name Lagardère pledged to protect the daughter of the Duc de Nevers from the wicked Prince who killed her father... But I don’t want to say more than that!”

“Spoilers,” Greg smiled, “go ahead, I’m curious now.”

An hour later, Mycroft closed his book softly, feeling that the attention of his guest was failing. It was the calm before the tempest. Sweat was covering Lestrade’s visage, his hands grasping the sheets without even realizing it. The last feverish attempt of the human in him, fighting to regain the upper hand on the vampire’s genes. _Poor man, he’s so calm, probably still denying it. The next few days are going to be… hard. I can’t imagine that’s going to help him going through the next week, except for our help and a clear explanation about what’s going on in his body. He’s a curious and intelligent man, he wants to know everything even if he denies it._

Suddenly, a dangerous idea bounced in the private man’s mind, using a cold cloth, he cleaned the man brows and waited for him to open his eyes before speaking, “Lestrade, if I give you the permission to ask me one question per day? One for each day of your confinement.”

Intrigued and quickly understanding that it was a rare offer, Gregory fixed his bloodshot eyes on Mycroft’s. “Anything?”

“Yes, I know that I shouldn’t do that, but I have faith that you are going to restrain your curiosity on _dangerous_ subjects.”

“Oh, that’s not fair… You must reply to anything or I won’t promise to behave.”

“Let's say that… you are going to get two questions, but I choose which one I’m going to reply to? And nothing about the Royal family or actual members of the parliament. Every day until this is over.”

“You’ve got a deal, Mister Holmes,” Greg extended his shaking hand as far as it was possible, falling finally into a troubled sleep after Mycroft shook it.

_The questions will have to wait until tomorrow_ , Mycroft thought, relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is weird nowadays, take care of yourself and the elderl(ovel)y in your life. 
> 
> And wash your damn hands! Like a crazy Lady Macbeth! Out, damned spot, out I say!
> 
> Morgane


	5. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Mycroft talked to his brother on the phone, Gregory’s body is still fighting against the vampire’s gene that is spreading in his body.

“How is it going?” Sherlock’s voice was full of concern, the sight of the too still body of a man he respects and considers a friend, was still haunting him.

Looking outside where a fine layer of morning fog was still attached to the top of the hills, Mycroft replied evenly, “he’s as well as possible in the circumstance, brother mine, you know what he is going through.”

“Yes, that’s why I… I - ” He remained silent for a second, unable to express his fears, “but… but you are taking care of him…”

Mycroft frowned at his brother’s broken voice. “I will, I am, of course, do not worry. And Peter and Carol are here also, I am not alone.”

“I know, I know… it’s just that –“ as the younger Holmes stopped again, his brother finally understands what was going on.

Cautiously, knowing that he was walking on dangerous ground, the politician murmured, “Sherlock, is this about John?”

“No! Why would I think about him right now?”

The indignation was faked expertly, but Mycroft wasn’t fooled. “How is your dear Doctor, brother mine? Are you enjoying your little retreat?”

Suddenly on his guard, Sherlock bickered, “Hudders is cooking too much, John is going to get fat.”

“Really? It’s true that Doctor Watson is not a beautiful man, a stone or two wouldn’t help him to be less ordinary.”

“DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT! John may not be perfect, but he’s perfect for me!”

Mycroft smiled, knowing that he was going to the bottom of it. “I am sorry, it was inconsiderate of me.” After a moment when he left his brother muttered incoherently against him, he continued, “have you talked about…  _ cementing _ your union.”

“How could I,” Sherlock mumbled, nearly incapable of speech, “he’s traumatized by what happened to his friend!” He sniffed, unable to stop the flow of tears, “how could I ask him to join me in that… that disgusting way of life.”

Calmly and wanting to go to the bottom of the story, the older man probed a bit more, “have you actually talked about this, or do you just  _ presume _ that he’s traumatized?”

“Of course he is, how could he not be disgusted by that horror!”

“Brother, it’s not fair! Don’t speak against  _ us _ like that. You know that part of Lestrade’s traumatic experience is that he didn’t have the choice, he was attacked.” His voice was full of love and understanding, he wished for the hundredth time that Sherlock would accept a video call!  _ I want to see his attitude, his eyes. _ “It was vicious, as vicious as any human can be. Turning vampire by choice is completely different, especially when your loved one is near you, helping you. You know that Doctor Watson is able to choose -”

“I can’t talk, John is coming down the stairs,” the detective whispered.

“Don’t overthink this, Sherlock, and talk to John!” But Mycroft’s last words were lost as his brother ended the call abruptly.

He was still unsettled, looking at the great outdoors and pondering the idea of going for a good walk to clear his mind before getting some work done when Carol walked down to the first floor. Mycroft remained near him all night long, working in his own bedroom while checking on him regularly to monitor any change. The night has been eventless except for Lestrade’s light fever. 

“Sir, I was cleaning the bathroom when I heard your friend, I think he’s having nightmares and the fever is getting higher.” Her soft compassionate voice and the use of the word ‘friend’ startled the vampire.

“Oh! He’s not a… not a friend,” Mycroft swallowed, “not really.”

With a smile, she nodded at his confused look, “of course, Sir, he’s clearly not just a friend.” And, without adding a word, she walked out of the house, her laundry basket under her arms, already amazed that she said something so personal to her otherworldly (yet generally approachable) employer.

As a loud scream resonated through the small house, Mycroft pushed his reflection for another time and rushed upstairs.

Gregory’s sheet and bedcover were all over the place, testimony of his now troubled sleep. He was mumbling repetitively, incomprehensible words mixed with louder shouts of pain. His beautiful face once more gleaming of fever with his clammy t-shirt uncomfortably clinging to his torso. Noting that a fresh t-shirt was waiting on the dresser, he frowned at the idea that Carol chose to let him deal with the situation instead of calling her husband.  _ I have other things to do, and what about that line that Gregory _ – he mentally chided himself,  _ that Lestrade is more than a friend? Why would I have someone that is more than a friend when I have none? _ Rolling his shirt sleeves carefully, he poured cold water in a basin in Sherlock’s bathroom and chose the softest handcloth possible.

Returning to the bed, he called softly. “Lestrade, you are dreaming, wake up…”

Eyes still closed and clearly confused, the poor man asked, “where, where am I? Is this a hospital?”

“No, Lestrade, it’s me, Mycroft Holmes.” The vampire sympathetically corrected, “you are in one of my houses, remember?” Getting the anaesthetic drops he used the day before, he carefully put a few drops in the sore eyes. “Keep them close for a few minutes, it’s going to be better soon.”

“Oh yes,” Greg nodded slowly as if each movement was painful, “I’m in Sherlock’s room in that little Scottish cottage of yours.”

_ How did he – _ “You are far too observant for your own good.”

Opening his eyes carefully, the policeman chuckled silently unable to stay mad for too long when Mycroft Holmes was playing doctor with him! “Yep, that’s me. Guilty as charged.”

“I am sorry that today won’t be a good day either, truly sorry. I can give you Paracetamol for the fever, at this stage, it’s still somewhat effective.”

“Yes, please,” pulling his t-shirt away from his body, he grimaced, “is it possible to wash a bit and change?”

“Carol left and Peter is away running some errands, he’s probably going to come back for lunch and –“

“Pleaaaase, I feel disgusting.”

“I don’t think it’s a wise idea…”  _ Maybe he’s going to be able to keep his temper on check? This way I could just detach one hand… wouldn’t have to… to touch him. _

Greg’s docile puppy eyes were on the verge of winning Mycroft’s consent when a dark streak appeared in his eyes. The DI suddenly shook his cuffed hands roughly, “NOW, HOLMES!” 

The anger was instantly replaced by confusion, Greg clearly troubled by his outburst.

It was enough for the older vampire to remember what he was dealing with. “You see that it’s impossible, I can’t release you for now.”

“I… I don’t… I am not… I know it’s for the best but –“ He stopped, unable to find the right words. He knew that it was the only option – he saw first hand the ravage that an unruled newborn vampire can do - but the feeling of being shackled like a criminal was horrible.  _ I am becoming an animal. No, _ he looked at his host sad expression and elegant yet casual attire,  _ not all of them are animals. _

“A real sponge bath would have to wait for tonight, but if you don’t mind...” He showed him the hand towel and waited for Lestrade’s timid nod. Silently and clinically, without really paying attention to Greg, Mycroft washed his face and neck with the cool cloth. Quickly, he removed the dirty t-shirt and after a quick swipe on the DI’s arms and torso, he dressed him with the clean top.

“Thank you, Mycroft. It’s… it’s okay. I am feeling better already, and, and the eye drops are doing wonders.” After a pause, he gathered his courage to add, “sorry for the outburst.”

“It’s okay, I understand. This is the current phase, that’s all. Nothing personal, I know.” Gathering the basin, he emptied it in the bathroom. “Good,” he stopped at the door, “I am going to let you rest for now.”

“You are not staying with me?” Lestrade asked, clearly disappointed.

“Oh, I can, if you want my company,” he stopped on the threshold of the room, surprised by the request. He deadpanned, “true, that you don’t have a lot of choices for company at the moment.”

“Even with other people around, your presence is always a privilege, Mycroft.” The warmth in Gregory’s voice was genuine.  _ And it’s too soon for him to develop the languorous quality of our kind _ , he stated to himself, knowing perfectly that anyway such ‘parlour tricks’ as Doctor Hooper once called it, is not effective on vampires.

Stunned, the politician sat down on his chair. He was about to ask ‘why do you want me here’ but changed his mind. “What do you want to do? Do you want to talk about something?”

“I am still searching for the perfect first question, don’t worry I haven’t forgotten your promise!” He smiled, thinking about the serious man’s enthusiasm when I read his story yesterday, he proposed, “maybe you can read a bit… I am curious to know what’s going to happen next!”

Extending his arm, Mycroft reached for his book. “If you want to… do you remember what I’ve read already?”

“I remember all the characters and that a beautiful lady is in love and secretly married to a nobleman called... Nieversse. They also have a secret daughter.” 

Lestrade’s French accent was horrible but adorable. “The Duc de  _ Nevers _ , exactly. And yes, the name of the secret daughter is Aurore.”

“But the father of that lady wants her to marry a powerful prince… so troubles are bound to happen!” Mycroft laughed at the understatement. Surprised by the geniality of Holmes' laughter, Greg stopped talking for a second. Taking the situation in. The intimate setting, the fact that they were alone, Holmes with his rolled-up sleeves, him in a t-shirt… he stuttered, “I, I think the last thing we read was that the couple planned an escape to get away from the lady’s father.”

“You’re right,” opening his book at the right place, he read, “ _ The night was dark, and the massive castle was hard to distinguish from the moonless sky…” _

“Oh that Gonzague! What a first-class bastard!” Greg summarized as Mycroft closed his book one hour later, parched.

“I am going to get some tea, do you want something… do you want to rest?”

Still troubled by the fact that he wasn’t hungry, in fact, the mere idea of food or even tea was nauseating, the captive shrugged his shoulders. “Water, maybe. Yes, cold water would be nice I think.”

It was easy to guess the thoughts in the man’s head. “Don’t worry about the rest, I am going to bring you water for now.”

Alone for a moment, Greg tried to get out of his manacles. Not to escape, he realized that it was probably the most secure place for him at the moment, but just to check if he was able to do so. _Shit! They are_ _indestructible!_ Pressing his head back into the comfy pillow, he turned his gaze around the room, trying to find something new to learn about its usual occupant. The room was simpler than the Victorian extravagance of Baker Street. It was a mix of country living and modern efficiency. _I can’t really imagine him here, reading a book or relaxing watching the sky at night! Away from the crimes, away from London!_ Thinking about how Mycroft acted since they arrived, he admitted that he can be wrong, _who would have known that Mycroft Holmes loved to play the part of the country gentleman! He’s such a curious man._

His host was back with his tea and a bottle of cold water. Thanking his host/guard, he wasn’t able to hide his expecting glance as he found his first question.

Satisfied that Lestrade was in a better disposition, even if it was clearly at his own detriment, Mycroft shook his head and sigh. “I am afraid to enquire about your good humour, but… you found something to ask I presume?”

“Yes!” He waited a bit, struggling to open his bottle until Mycroft does it for him, he drank the water as if it was a first for him!  _ This is strange, it’s just plain water, the cap was sealed… _

“After your eyes, the taste and smell are usually the second things that become more intensified. Your senses are going to increase up to a point that a mere glass of water is an adventure, as well as every whiff of perfume… of every person nearby.” Holmes closed his eyes, inhaling slowly as if he was absorbing the air around him. The flowers on the dresser, the deep odour of the peat field surrounding the house, the fresh ionized air after a good rain, and Gregory. Dreamily, he murmured, “it’s strange and intimate, a bit confusing at first but our minds somewhat shift after a few days and it’s less overwhelming.” Opening his eyes, he chuckled, “if you are able to think about anything aside from the minerals in the water and the taste of the plastic bottle, do you have a question for me?”

“Yes, a simple one as it’s the first one, how did you find this house? Got the feeling that it’s a good story!”

“Only that? I can certainly talk to you about this house, I don’t need a second option.” Relaxing in his chair even if he knew that more strenuous questions will probably follow soon, he started his tale.


	6. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade’s mourning the loss of his humanity is textbook but thanks to Mycroft's tale he can change his mind.

The morning was calm in the small house. A background music of his classical favourites in a posh Bang & Olufsen sound system, Mycroft was reading a report on his computer, sending notes and questions to Anthea at the same time. His last discussion with Sherlock, only by text, was still running in his mind as he surveyed the large farmhouse table full of documents and files.  _ Do you think it’s Moriarty?  _ The fact that his younger brother was asking him, instead of simply trusting his deductions was further proof of the detective’s troubled mind.  _ Of course, it’s Moriarty. The man’s goal in life is to get under Sherlock’s skin. Literally. _ The fact that Moriarty kidnapped John less than two weeks after they met had rocketed the younger vampire’s protectiveness _.  _ He knew that sentiment wasn’t  _ always _ a defect, but he knows that as long as Sherlock was going to be afraid of losing John, he won’t be able to fight the crazy criminal.  _ It would be easier if he just turned the doctor and ended that madness. And now Lestrade, poor brother, life’s not easy nowadays. Maybe they could have come here with us?  _ But he knew that it was better as they are now. The doctor doesn’t need to see firsthand the birth of a new vampire, especially when said vampire is a close friend.  _ They are safer at the manor, with Ms Hudson’s pampering as a bonus.  _ Thinking about his own ‘not your housekeeper’ he walked gingerly to the countertop where Carol left a little something for him. The wonderful scent of the fresh scones still hot from the oven perfumed the room. Hovering over the basket, he forgot for a second why he was in his Scotland retreat until he saw the note left by the woman. ‘ _ Everything you are going to need for the next two days is in the fridge’.  _ His patrician face took on a slight disgust, as Mycroft opened the fridge and made a lopsided smile at the view of the dozen or so bottled blood.  _ I hope he’s going to like A negative. _

__

He was back at his computer, writing a series of tasks for his team when he realized that he should have heard a noise from upstairs hours ago.  _ What’s going on?  _ Aware that the third day was usually draining he knew that Lestrade wasn’t going to be active and that he wasn’t able to move around, but the silence was oppressive coming from a man as open and talkative as the DI. Slowly, he walked up the stairs without a sound. When he heard it. Sobs. His head dropped to his chest and he released a silent moan.  _ No, I don’t know how to deal with that, I am the worst at consoling people.  _ Unable to stay away now that he knew that the excellent man was crying, he stomped a bit more noisily to give Lestrade a chance to pull himself together. “Good morning Lestrade.” A nearly silent mumble was the only reply he received. “Sorry, didn’t get that?”

Marginally louder, Greg repeated, “how is it going to be possible for this morning or any other TO BE ANY GOOD! It’s impossible, it couldn’t have happened to me!”

_ Denial laced by a bit of anger. Good, anger is good. I can deal with anger.  _ “You are only a few days away before being back to your usual self, DI Lestrade, each morning is a step in the right direction.”

Turning as far as it was possible without being painful, the poor man murmured, “don’t call me that…” As Mycroft remained silent, he specified, “DI, don’t call me DI… I won’t be… It’s impossible now.” A small sob escaped his lips, “Oh my God, this isn’t happening… How could it have happened to me? The work of my whole life, destroyed, just like that...”

_ Disengaging from the situation is not helping anyone. _ Without acknowledging Greg’s words, the politician teased, “the Met can barely solve murders when you are here, I can’t imagine my brother’s workload if you are not going back to work.”

The sting worked like a charm! “I am an excellent detective!”

“I know, and you won’t be the first vampire in the force, detective, and won’t be the last.” Mycroft’s quiet assertive tone was finally able to break into Greg’s mindset.

“It can’t be… And I won’t be a fucking liaison agent or something like the vampires you constantly force on us.”

Laughing, the omniscient leader of the vampire’s affairs office, nodded. “Yes, we do that often, don’t we?” Satisfied that Lestrade was back to his usual self, he looked into his eyes, “I promise that you won’t lose your job on this, Lestrade, you are not the first high ranking officer in this situation.”

A bit of hope found its way into the newborn vampire’s psyche, “but my teams… they –“

“You are in control of everything, Lestrade, you decide if you want to be open about this or on the ‘need to know basis’ only. Of course, as the years are going to go on without any significant changes in your appearance you won’t have that much choice. But you don’t need to say anything right now, a good pair of contact lenses is all you need. As far as the Met is concerned, you are in hospital because you were shot.”

At Holmes' apparent solicitude, an idea sprung in the policeman’s suspicious mind. “Are you expecting something from me, Holmes?”

_ Expecting some- _ “oh for Good Graces! NO.” Getting up with his cold mask on, he enunciated, “I know that I may have a ruthless reputation, DI Lestrade, but know that I am capable of doing something without expecting a favour in return. Especially for a man who worked with, protected and helped my younger brother. A man that I, stupidly it seems, considered as a part of the few people that are  _ friends _ and intimates to our family.” 

“Holmes, I’m –“, but it was too late, the vampire was walking out of the room. “Mycroft, I’m sorry.” He suddenly felt small, not in control of his own life. “Shit, I keep having to apologise. My life, how could this be my life. I… God, sorry, I know that you are doing your best.”

Breathing slowly, Mycrrof walked back near the bed. “It’s okay, Lestrade, I wasn’t a model of  _ patience _ myself. I know that you sincerely care a great deal about Sherlock.” He waited a bit before changing the subject, “how are you feeling?”

“Well enough. But, first, you need to understand that I am… I have always cared about you. You and your brother, you are a package deal, you know what I mean.” He chuckled, trying to cover the flush of embarrassment that was building on his cheeks.  _ Is it possible to turn pink when you are a vampire? Or a future vampire?  _ “And… how am I feeling? Maybe a bit peckish, but it’s weird…”

_ Here we go. _ “The hunger… it’s not like a normal hunger.”

“No, it’s like…” Lestrade shook his arms and stretched his back, tired of being in bed, “it’s as if my cells are hungry.”

“It takes a bit of time to get used to it…” Cautiously, even if the residual violent behaviour should be over in someone as normally nonaggressive as Lestrade, the vampire proposed, “if you are hungry… I can give you something.”

Stunned, Greg turned his eyes to look away from Mycroft. “I guess it’s not scones.” Disgusted by himself, he was briefly tempted. Tempted to say yes. Tempted to get blood in his system.  _ Because it can only be that. _

“No, sorry to say that it won’t be any food at the moment,” Holmes replied with a sympathetic smile. “You are going to be able to enjoy light food soon enough, in a few days or so.” He chuckled, patting his perfectly flat stomach, “I am quite fond of cake myself, as my dear brother keeps teasing me about. Thank God I changed after - ” Censoring himself, he took a small key on a nearby shelf, he extended a hand in direction of Lestrade’s right wrist. “I can remove one today, it’s going to be easier.”

“Okay, yes, I’m going to behave. Thank you. And for the food, it’s okay I somewhat understand without wanting to know all the details for now. I… I am okay… I don’t need - ”  _ Blood. _ “I don’t need to… to drink now.”  _ I can do that. _ Lestrade chided himself before denying the whole situation again.  _ I shouldn’t have to! This is so unfair! _

Trying to keep the man away from his dark thoughts, the first feeding was going to be soon enough, Holmes stirred his attention away while removing the shackle. “I worked a lot this morning, my eyes are tired, do you want to ask your second question right now and go back to the book later today?”

Again, his tactic worked wonderfully. Lestrade moved his wrist happily while his gaze turned sharp. “I’ve got one question if you have the right to talk about as it’s not about you.”

“What is it?”

“You have a special relationship with Anthea, who is she?” He paused, knowing that the question was utterly personal, “is she your… wi -, I mean, companion? Did you –“ Lestrade stopped, looking for the right word, “did you  _ sire  _ her?”

Mycroft’s laughter was like a breath of fresh air in the previously tension-filled room. “Oh my God no, I would have chosen someone less opinionated!” Taking out his phone, he quickly sent a text to Anthea, still laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me, you are always together, and did you just text that to her?” Using his free hand, Lestrade hid his face. “Oh God, she’s going to wipe my credit file and my passport, isn’t she?”

“No, no, only mild teasing probably. She likes you, do not worry.” Regaining his normal demeanour, Mycroft closed his eyes a second to order his thoughts. “Hmmm, yes, Anthea. Don't need another question to choose from... let's talk about my dear Anthea. You are right, we know each other very well… Where to start?”

Greg was a captive of the other man’s voice, as he waited for the story to come. Far from the funny story of how he gained the little cottage in an poker competition with a giant Highlander at the turn of the century. “The beginning is always a good place to start… When and where were you when you met her?”

“I was in Poland at the beginning of May 1945, in a small town near the German border when –“

“You were in Europe at that time? It must have been… terrible. May 1945, it was what, right after Hitler’s suicide?” Greg asked, in awe.

_ Someone had to be sure that the bastard was dead, as Sherlock usually put it _ . “Yes, I was on a mission specifically near the leader of the group of vampires in the resistance, to help them organise the rebellion. I was with them for nearly a year, they are good people. I am still in contact with many of them.” He smiled sadly. “But, this is all classified and not the subject of today’s question! So, I was in that little village, that was full of suspicion against strangers, especially old horror tales about vampires and crosses and silver when an old woman came to me one day. She was trembling, afraid, barely able to talk but her decisiveness was clear in her eyes…” He waited, checking if Greg was still following.

“Go on!”

“Patience, Lestrade, patience… She told me to come to her house. She invited me, even if she was clearly terrified. I replied in what I think was an acceptable Polish and suddenly she was more at ease, even with our differences, we shared a common language. I motioned to my bodyguard to stay behind, I didn’t need help against an old woman, and followed her.”

“You must’ve been crazy! It was probably a trick!”

“Of course, I was counting on it. Berlin was nearly destroyed, the Nazi were without a leader, I was about to go back to England so… I was, I don’t know how to say -”

“Don’t tell me you were bored. You are as terrible as your brother!” Greg shook his head in mocking despair. “Unbelievable!”

“No, I was... disgusted, we constantly received news about... camps and… the horror… so I was disgusted by humanity a bit. No, a lot. That old woman was so brave, so real, it was like a breath of fresh air after months and months of foul miasma.”

“I can understand…” Wanting to chase the sad and closed look from Holmes’ face, he asked, “what happened? She wanted to give her body to the sexy young vampire?”  _ Oh. My. God. What did I just say! _

Thankfully, Mycroft was lost in his memories and never acknowledged what Greg had just said. “Once in her small house, at the edge of the village, she locked the door and turned to look at me in the eyes. I still remember her small but firm voice. ‘ _ Mister vampire’ _ , she said to me, ‘ _ I need your help’ _ . She pushed towards me a dozen baubles and small jewellery pieces. Old simple necklaces that probably belong to her mother or grandmother, wedding rings, small religious medals. A lifetime of sacrifice and mementoes. She repeated many times, that it was all for me, that she wasn’t able to get more, but it was all for me…”

“Poor woman, what happened?”

“I replied, of course, that I didn’t need anything, that she must keep her family legacy.” Fidgeting with his trousers, brushing away invisible dust, Mycroft was obviously still moved by the encounter with the old lady. “She grabbed my hand firmly, her fear must have been terrible, but she was a courageous woman, a wonderful  _ babcia* _ .” Getting a glass of water, he offered one to Greg before he continued. “She dragged me towards the end of the room and stopped in front of a small trap in the floor. With difficulty, I helped her, she pushed a big metal bar and opened the door.” Greg was suspended to his lips, knowing where the story was heading, but afraid of being right. “The stench wasn’t horrible, but the air in the cave was obviously stale. Using a lamp, I carefully walked down the rickety stairs until I stepped onto the earthen floor. After a small noise in a corner caught my attention, I walked carefully trying to light the room as far as possible with the old oil lamp. Suddenly I saw her. A young woman, clearly terrified of seeing someone in her domain. Even with the lack of hygiene and her wary attitude, she was beautiful. Her eyes were shining of intelligence and curiosity. Her small bed, surrounded by books, was tidy.”

“How long… what happened?” Greg begged, wanting to learn more.

“The old woman was her sister, she had stayed in that cave for nearly twenty years. Can you imagine? Without turning mad? Without giving up on hope? The younger woman remained silent, you realized it was Anthea of course, looking at me as if she was evaluating me. It was quite unnerving.”

Greg chuckled, “so you know the feeling.”

“Really funny, DI Lestrade, really funny. Can I continue?”

The policeman saluted with his free hand, “go on, please.”

“I learned years later what happened to her, but that part of the story is not mine to tell, let’s just say that she was hidden there for her security as the villagers were quite superstitious and a threat to our kind, she remained silent and stunned for months alone in that cave, feeding on small animals until she started to realized the burden she was on her dear sister. Over time she recovered, trying to help by doing embroidery or small tasks, reading all the books her sister was able to get, she even taught her older sister how to read.” Mycroft paused as he thought of how Anthea’s face changed when she talked about her  _ droga siostro.*  _ “Knowing that it was impossible for her sister to continue the charade, she was getting too old to stay in her home, she agreed to go with me if I gave her sister the money she needed to get everything she needed. I accepted, of course, even if it was a bit strange for her to sell herself to me, in a way. I realized soon that she thought that I was wanting her for my mistress,” 

Mycroft chuckled at the memory of a sparkling clean Anthea naked in his bed, waiting as if she was sacrificing herself to a demon and waved his hand as if the mere idea was ludicrous. “I only wanted to get her out of her miserable life. we first needed to educate her, her mind was full of idiocy like being afraid of garlic or the sun. And we needed to help her to change her diet.” Thinking about their conversation when he was driving to Scotland, he smiled,  "the poor thing was so afraid of cars at first... In the twenties, they weren't that usual in small West European villages. She still doesn't have her license and prefers to be carried around with a chauffeur. ” He smiled as his eyes looked around the room, “she’s the first woman who stayed here… Her rehabilitation went well, she was eager to learn and became devoted to me. After a year, when she was feeling better, was able to talk a nearly flawless English and started to feel restless, she asked me for permission to attend a secretarial school, I said yes of course.”

“And after?”

“When the course was over – she finished at the top of the class far above everyone else – she took the bus to London and suddenly, without even asking my permission, she was in the office next to mine! She had taken charge of my schedule, reorganized my life, and she quickly became indispensable to me. Learning everything every time a new technology becomes available. She’s been by my side ever since.”

“What an incredible story!” Greg was even more impressed by the young woman now, “but the older sister? What happened?”

“One day, a few years later, we received a letter to inform us that she had passed away. Two envelopes were included. One for Anthea, full of the little trinkets that were so precious to her older sister, and one for me.”

“What was in it?”

Pulling his watch from the small pocket of his vest, Mycroft delicately brushed a small gold medal that was attached to the chain. “A medal of Saint-Stanislas, the patron saint of Poland.”

Smiling, Greg closed his eyes thinking about the incredible courage of the young woman and the even more incredible kindness of her saviour. 

He dropped off to sleep with a vision of a knight with a shiny armour and auburn hair…

*

_babcia = grand-mother / old woman_

_droga siostro = dear sister_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but it's longer than usual :-) Silly me doesn't like to write on my PC in the evening... after I worked on my PC all day long. 
> 
> Take care, everyone, stay safe and wash your hands!


	7. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is hungry… but he’s still fighting it. 

The next morning was proceeding nicely. After a good evening where they talked and read together, Mycroft had worked all night long while Greg rested. His goal was to find Moriarty and to know everything about his relationship with Frederic’s gang.  _ First, they attacked John, then Gregory… Doctor Watson, clearly it was to try to convince Sherlock that his place was with him, not a mere ordinary doctor. Or at least to force him to choose him to save John. Later, he paid for an attack on Lestrade. Why? Playing with the Met and the public? Start an outrage? The Covent doesn’t need any more bad rep, why did they do that? More important, why had Moriarty hired them to do so? The only people who were going to benefit from such a display, are the freaks from the anti-vampire association and of course whoever wanted to destabilise Sherlock. Sadly, it worked. _

A small voice from within murmured ‘and you, YOU have been destabilised. Maybe someone realized that you are like a schoolboy around Gregory’. Refusing to listen or acknowledge that HE maybe was the one targeted thru Lestrade, he decided to check on the man.  _ Today he’s going to need sustenance, it’s the fourth day, he can’t go on without feeding himself. Even if he’s disgusted, it can not go on like this… or something bad is going to happen. _

Taking a bottle from the fridge, he walked upstairs.

The sight that welcomed him isn’t pretty. Lestrade’s hand, the one still restrained, is gripping the sheet constantly. Repeating the motion of opening and closing his hand continuously, pressing the tips of his fingers so strongly that he was on the verge of breaking them. The other was constantly pressing his nails into his body. Always moving, unable to stay still. From his torso to his legs, to his head… Leaving red marks on his arm, neck, any place that wasn’t covered. As if he was trying to remove pain, to do something to obliterate his condition.

Putting the bottle down before he entered the room, Mycroft first went for the man’s hand, trying to steady it. “Lestrade, shhhhh, stop doing that my friend, you are hurting yourself…”

His newly enhanced strength now clearly showing, Lestrade grabbed Mycroft’s arm. Hard. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” The bloodshot eyes fixed themselves on Holmes, looking at him as if he was a stranger, an enemy, before glazing over in confusion. “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME!”

Using his other hand, Mycroft removed Greg’s grip with difficulty, detaching each finger one by one.  _ The imprint is going to be spectacular, thankfully we heal easily.  _ Using the man’s distress at what was happening to his advantage, he swiftly retrieves the handcuff that was still attached to the bed.  _ I shouldn’t have removed one yesterday, sentiment! I should have known better! _ He was about to click them back on when Claire entered the room, shifting the new vampire’s attention away from Mycroft.

“Oh, what happened, let me -”

Mycroft held up his hand quickly to stop her, but it was too late, she was right beside the bed. Lestrade, smelling the wonderful aroma of the woman, pushed away the other vampire from him with renewed force and gripped Claire by her apron.

At her panicked scream, Mycroft jumped on the bed to protect the woman, literally straddling Lestrade to immobilize him, snarling a deep growl until he calmed down. Imposing his dominance over the youngling.

His body acting as a shield between the troubled young vampire and the woman, he said as calmly as possible, “Claire… CLAIRE”.

She finally acknowledged her boss with a small hiccupping voice, “ye-, yes, Sir.”

“He didn’t bite you?”

Trembling, she protested, “Oh no, no, he didn’t, he couldn’t, not Mister Lestrade!” She always found the man polite and quite perfect for her bachelor employer. 

“Then everything is going to be okay; I am going to take care of DI Lestrade and you are going to go in the kitchen and drink a good glass of sherry. Okay?”

“Yes, yes, Sir, I believe I will,” before she adjusted her clothes and walked out of the bedroom still shaking.

Heaving with exertion and anger towards himself for his foolishness, Mycroft silently put on the missing handcuff before realizing his position. He was still straddling Greg, the situation somewhat sexual even if the mood wasn’t at all appropriate for frolicking. Lifting his right leg, he disengaged himself swiftly without a word but remained at the edge of the bed.

“It’s not me,” Lestrade protested, miserable, afraid of that side of him. Of Mycroft’s reaction. “Why am I doing things that I don’t want to do… Never, I would never – “ He stopped, his voice strangled by tears, “I would never hurt anybody. Why did, you, you and Sherlock you… You don’t do things like that.” After a moment where Holmes stayed silent, he murmured, “Tell Claire that I am so sorry, please, I… I am sorry.”

“I know, she knows,” placing his head in his hands, Holmes tried to put his ideas together. Wondering why it was affecting him that much.  _ It’s not the first time, I’ve supervised plenty of conversions… it’s normal for Lestrade to act like that. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have removed that manacle yesterday. I’m so stupid. Lestrade is not different from anybody. He needs time, that’s all.  _ “No, I am the one who should be sorry. I know better than to even partially release a newborn after 3 days even if… even if it’s you.” After a pause, he repeated, “I am truly sorry. This is on me, entirely.”

His head turned in his pillow, Greg muttered, “I am feeling so bad, it hurts, everywhere… I don’t know what to do…”

“You know what your body wants, Lestrade, don’t deny yourself. You are going to feel better after.”

“But after… after that…” Greg protested, crying in earnest now.

“After that?”

“It’s going to be over.”

Mycroft sighed, “Again, I truly regret that this is happening to you, I can’t say it enough. But you have no choice now, it’s already over. The only path is forward.” Getting up, he fetched the bottle. “You only have the choice of how you are going to get there. Hurting yourself uselessly or learning how to deal with it. I always thought of you as a smart man, DI Lestrade.”

Noting that Mycroft kept switching from Gregory, to Lestrade, to DI Lestrade, Greg frowned, “why can’t you just call me Greg.”

“I think it’s important for you to remember who you are, you are still a Detective Inspector.” He smiles, “and I prefer Gregory to Greg.”

“You are such a snob, nobody except my grandmother has ever called me Gregory.”

Not wanting to delay the inevitable, Mycroft opened the bottle and helped the bed rested man to sit up. “It’s going to take some time to get used to, usually we prefer to drink our own type so I’ve got A negative…”

“Of course, you know my blood type. You probably control the NHS, why do you just don’t take over the whole country and get on with it?”

Perfectly aware that Greg was stalling, he chuckled, “is this today’s question? Why don’t we kill the Queen and take over everything?”

“Yes, and that book of yours also, I want to know what’s going on with that Gonzague bastard.” He looked at the bottle, smelling the coppery scent of the blood. _It’s not the same as this, not the same as at a crime scene._ _It smells clean, sweet almost._ Joking humorlessly, he asked, “How does it work, is this paid for by my health insurance or I must order it as take-out from my nearby blood bank?”

“The fake-blood is provided by the NHS but we declare it on our annual tax report as a taxable benefit.” Mycroft deadpanned. “Come on,  _ Greg _ , if you want to learn what’s going to happen to Lagardère and little Aurora.” He waved the bottle.

“Oh, for fuck sakes.” Closing his eyes, Lestrade chugged down half of the bottle, then was disgusted that his body immediately started to feel better.

“Good,” smiling Mycroft closed the bottle, “enough for a first feeding. Let me get my book... and a bucket in case you don’t keep it down.”

The rest of the day went smoothly, as smoothly as possible. The politician read a few chapters, liking the soothing sensation of the familiar story as well as Gregory’s delight in each cliffhanger or sword battle in the middle of a market street. Thankfully he kept down his first unit of blood, he even accepted the rest of the bottle in the afternoon, before finally drifting into a restful sleep. His new body needed an uncustomary amount of sleep for a vampire.  _ Before the end of the week, he’s going to be fine if his psyche doesn’t play mind tricks with him. _

Still in the bedroom where he was reading paperwork while Lestrade slept, the light buzz of his phone distracted him from the dry legal jargon. It was Anthea.

> 17:45  I have received news re our investigation into Frederic’s activities with M.
> 
> 17:46  Large sums of money have moved between the two using distraction and false identities. It’s been going on for months.
> 
> _ 17:49  _ _ Good, could you please discreetly remove the money? Dear Frederic is probably resting very badly with all that illegal money. _
> 
> 17:51  With infinite pleasure, Sir.
> 
> 17:52  We are trying to find out if they planned something else, an attack of some sort but nothing so far.
> 
> _ 17:53  _ _ Keep watching him, I do not trust that weasel. _
> 
> 17:54  His deep knowledge of you, if I may, is quite dangerous even if he’s only a puppet in M’s hands.
> 
> _ 17:55  _ _ He knows nothing of (erase) _
> 
> _ 17:56  _ _ As if this degenerate (erase) _
> 
> _ 17:56  _ _ I should have destroyed the (erase) _
> 
> _ 17:57  _ _ Keep watching them, I leave this in your capable hands, dear. _
> 
> 17:59 I will
> 
> 17:59  I don’t want to pry, but, do you think that DI Lestrade’s attack is somewhat linked to you instead of Sherlock?

Damning the astuteness of his PA, Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment. Anthea's constant teasing about his ‘friendship’ with Lestrade started ten years ago, when he met the man for the first time. He was impressed and it showed. Enthralled by his probity, his easy acceptance of Sherlock’s quirkiness, his openness in regards to the vampire’s community (the good one at least).  _ His good looks. Is it possible that someone else realized that I am secretly harbouring… feelings for the man? _

> 18:06  Sir, I am sorry if I talked out of turn. I know that you admire the numerous qualities of the detective. You’ve never said or acted openly in a way that could indicate you might carry some feeling for him.
> 
> _ 18:08  _ _ Do not worry, I have always appreciated and counted on your frankness. Even when you are obviously wrong. _
> 
> _ 18:10: Good evening, Anthea. Keep me posted if something new occurs. _
> 
> 18:12  I will.
> 
> 18:12 Good night, Sir.

He was still lost in his thoughts when Lestrade called him softly. “Mycroft?”

“Oh, you are up! I hope the light hasn't disturbed you?”

“No, no, I wasn’t really sleeping. I am exhausted but not tired…” Greg frowned, wondering how long he’s going to still need to actually sleep a whole night per day. “That’s a strange feeling.”

Able to read his uncertainty as usual, Mycroft smiled comfortingly, “you are going to need less and less hours of sleep. But many of us still like to do it anyway.” He knew that even his brother and his usual erratic ‘downtime’ schedule was down nearly four hours per night since John’s arrival in his life. “My brother used to relax a few hours every two days but he now slumbers four or five hours per night. Going to bed with John, getting up later to read or experiment on something, then he joins him at dawn to be near him when he wakes up.”

“That’s really sweet of him, good for them!” Thinking about his own lack of a love life, Lestrade sighed melancholically.  _ Can’t imagine getting a love life now, if even a vampire as bright as Mycroft is alone. Is it by choice?  _ Eying the other man's ring finger, where a gold band was shining lightly, he was about to ask about it when the front door opened.

“Oh, I’m going to see what it is. They are probably re-stocking the firewood.”

“Please tell Claire and that giant bear of a husband of her that I am really sorry –“

“We know, Gregory, we know. Try not to think about it.” Knowing that the guilt for something that was natural at that moment was torturing the policeman – it was short of a miracle that nothing of the sort happened previously – Mycroft once more used the DI’s curiosity to change his mind. “I’m going to check if they need me for something and, if you are not tired anymore, we can discuss the pros and cons of a realm 100% controlled by vampires.”

“Ohhhh shady  _ secrets _ about your _top-secret_ agenda!”

“You wish!” Laughing, Holmes walked down the stairs turning his ring around his finger without thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to dream about Mycroft straddling Gregory.


	8. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is in a better mood and asks Mycroft another questions. Something personal, in order to get to know him better.

“You know, I’m calling it now. Aurore is going to fall in love with her  _ father _ .” Greg claimed as his ‘host’ closed their novel. He was still restrained, not trusting himself since yesterday’s episode, but he was finally feeling more relaxed now, lazily looking at the ray of light on the ceiling while he listened to the beautiful voice that is now a steady addition to his dreams.

“Thank God, she never called him that,” Mycroft chuckled, not wanting to spoil the story for Lestrade. “It must be really confusing to have such a synergistic relationship with someone that isn’t a parent or a brother, especially when the man is brave and beautiful.” Thinking about the beautiful man in front of him, he sighed knowingly. “I think she would have loved to still have his real father or her mother with her though.”

“I’m sure she’s going to find her mother, still can’t believe that she married that son of a bitch of Gonzague.”

“Language, DI Lestrade, language,” the politician chided playfully.

After a moment when they both just beamed peacefully at each other, Greg murmured, “I am happy, you know, for my parents.”

“Hmmm?”

“That they are dead, both of them,” the detective explained, “that they won’t see me…” he motioned a hand toward his teeth, “like this.”

“Don’t be silly, your teeth won’t be any different than before…” It was used only in defence or if needed in feeding. Mycroft himself can’t recall the last time he summoned his canines.

“And you?” Greg asked, “think this is my question today if you don’t mind.”

“My teeth? Haven’t needed them in years.”

“No,” Lestrade smiled indulgently, “your parents.”

Sitting stiffly, the other man deadpanned. “Oh, they are dead as well.”

“Don’t be an idiot, I’ve seen your family’s photos. I know that your parents weren’t vampires. My question is more… broad. How it was with your parents? They knew about Sherlock and you… You’ve got pictures with them as they aged, so they remained in your life and didn’t disown you both. So, this is my question, what was the life of the Holmes family? Before and after.”

Suddenly stressed, Mycroft’s mind was racing. Trying to find an angle to tell their story without saying too much, without talking about Sherlock, about his wife, about everything that he wanted to keep hidden for now.  _ A general idea of what it was to be a Holmes in the 19 _ _ th _ _ century… it’s quite safe. No?  _ “Are you still sure you want to keep the manacles on both hands? You know I have total faith in you and, now that you fed yourself, accidents like yesterday’s won’t happen anymore.” In fact, a shy Claire – followed by her protective husband – came in the room in the morning to change flowers and the duvet and everything went as planned. Save for the awkwardness of course. “I trust you, Gregory,” Mycroft repeated.

“I know, but no… maybe tomorrow. And maybe soon, I would love to get out of the room. Maybe go outside? I’m willing to keep something on my ankles if needed.”

“Tomorrow.” The older vampire nodded, “we can go out tomorrow if you are still inclined to do so.”  _ The village is kilometres away and the sounds and odours should be enough to entertain Gregory for hours! _

“Yes, I would love to. And now… I’ve been good, I deserve a story! You promised me, one question a day.” Turning a bit onto his side, as comfortably as possible, Greg waited.

Mycroft sighed deeply. “Yes, I promised. It was rather foolish of me… and I still have the feeling that they won’t be getting easier, these questions of yours.” Extending a hand, he took an album on a nearby shelf. He turned a few pages until he found the picture he was looking for. It was a grainy representation of a superb countryside manor. “It’s used to be our home, Musgrave Hall. We spent our childhood there.”

“Nice place, you are from nobility then… always knew that all your whole persona wasn’t only a relic from the Victorian era.” Lestrade joked.

“Oh, nothing… nothing too much. It was quite normal for us, Mother was the daughter of a baronet, our father was an Earl that successively used all the technologies available at that time to get good revenue from our land as well as a flair for the stock exchange and new strange business ventures!” He smiled, thinking about how passionate his father was about business and politics! “He didn’t think it was below him to talk about money and to be hands-on in his business. It was a great man, born in 1809.”

“You aren’t an Earl? What happened to the title?”

“It wasn’t possible, still not possible without strict rules, for a vampire to inherit a title… It went to a distant cousin, as well as Musgrave Hall until we purchased it back years later.”

“Oh, that’s kind of not fair, especially for your family home.” He stopped a moment, thinking about the consequences of an eternal peer! “Your dad, he was around forty when you were born, right?” Lestrade guessed.

“Yes, and nearly fifty when Sherlock arrived. Poor man!” He chuckled, turning the album to another picture. “It was another time; the places of men and women were… I don’t want to say that it was better, it wasn’t on so many counts, but it was clearer. Especially in a wealthy family.” He turned the album one more time, so Greg was able to see the picture. “Come on, detective, laugh.”

“Oh, Mister Holmes, is that you?”  _ This is so fucking adorable! _ In the garden behind the house, a chubby baby with long ringlets, in a white gown as it was the tradition for girls and boys at that time, was sitting on a blanket. A lovely young woman was watching over him tenderly. She was dressed simply but the garment was elegant and well constructed.  _ Not a nanny then _ . “Your mother?”

“Yes,” Mycroft smiled fondly, “she was a wonderful mother, wanting to be with us as frequently as possible which was a real novelty for the time among the peerage.” He sighed, looking at the woman sadly.” Of course, it was harder when my parents started to sojourn into London more often and with the arrival of Sherlock…“

“A handful I presumed?” Greg chuckled, thinking of a smaller version of the detective, with unruly hair and curious mind.

“Yes, to my parents' despair he talked relentlessly of pirates and buccaneers! Running around the estate all day long, barely coming home for meals. Let's say that my old nanny wasn’t up to the task and that a new one was quickly hired!”  _ Thank God for Hudders, she’s a marvel!  _ He turned a few pages, knowing that he was going to give Lestrade clear leverage against his younger brother. “Here you go!” Sherlock was sulking in a pirate’s outfit, with a small wood sabre and hat. “It was the only way Mother found to get him to stay still for the picture.”

“Oh my God… do you think that I…”

“Of course, I can get you a copy if you want!” Mycroft nodded, relieved and happy to see Lestrade’s eyes smiling again after yesterday ordeal.

They talked for hours, about all the little things that composed his formative years, the tediousness of ink bottles, how the public transportation worked at that time. The food, the salons, the theatre. The creation of the great museums… everything! The work of the police also changed so much in the last century. Not knowing if he was allowed to ask direct questions about Sherlock, Greg tiptoed, “I know that he started to work as a detective around 1890, where were you at that time?”

“Oh, I was already doing this and that. As you know I studied at Cambridge, politics with a specialisation in diplomatic affairs. I worked with Gladstone whether he was elected or not,” he pursed his lips. “Contrary of what may be expected, I wasn’t attracted by the Conservative side of the chamber. When he finally stepped back as PM, in his eighties, I remained in government but… with a more discreet role.”

“Not a fan of Thatcher I imagine,” Greg chuckled thinking about Mycroft and the Iron Lady confronting ideas. “You never thought about trying for the office yourself?”

Putting a hand on his heart, as if to reign himself in, Holmes laughed merrily. “Oh no… being under the public scrutiny isn’t my cup of tea, as you know. It’s not a recent development, I always preferred the darkness to broad daylight.” At Greg’s mischievous smile, he added, “vampire’s pun unintended.”

“At that time, you, you were… still you?”

Closing the album, Mycroft retorted, “I think it’s enough for today.”

“No, sorry, sorry, talk to me about your parents… I know that they had long lives... They were happy, I presumed. They always looked so content!”

The opportunity to talk about his parents was rare, that Mycroft’s will to end their discussion quickly evaporated. “They were… painfully normal, I think. Normal for us at least. Mother doted on us and proud of any of our accomplishments, she was thrilled when –“ Censuring himself once more, he stopped. “When I was admitted to Eton.”

Lestrade realized that it wasn’t what Holmes was about to say, he wasn’t a fool, but he let it go. “It’s a great college! And after that Cambridge, that’s really impressive!”

“Maybe,” he exhaled, satisfied that the DI took the bait, “Sherlock went to Oxford just to spite me. But we weren’t in university at the same time anyway, of course.”

“You were quite young I’m sure, a prodigy?” Greg teased.

“No, no, not a prodigy. It rather sounds like a well-dressed dog, don’t you think? Let's say that I was proficient and quite fond of learning.”

Chuckling at Mycroft’s modesty, Greg protested, “coming from someone who slaved just to get by to get my officer’s rank, I know that it’s not that easy!”

“I’ve seen your records, Gregory, don’t sell yourself short,” the omniscient man scolded.

“Oi! That is private!”

“Oops, sorry,” adding with a wicked smile, “can’t promise to keep out of police records if I’m honest.”

“You are a menace, and Sherlock as well!” The DI rolled his eyes in fake indignation. “So… you went back home after uni or you relocated to London directly?”

“I didn’t come back to Musgrave no, my career was already time-consuming, and… life. My parents were alone with Sherlock, who was still coming home from school regularly at that time. On weekends, for summers… Sadly, I missed a lot of his childhood because I was otherwise occupied.” The regret in Mycroft’s voice was clearly audible.

“You are a good brother now, you seem really close despite all the constant nagging,” Greg comforted. “It’s often like that when you have a lot of difference between siblings. I am an only child, I would give my right arm to have a brother or a sister!”  _ Maybe one day I’m going to have a proper brother or sister in law? _ He smiled melancholically at the thought. “It probably changed when Sherlock came to London as well, no? What happened to your parents? They must have been lonely?”

“Sherlock and I weren’t in the same… circle. It was hard to get in touch with him, he always had been so passionate about –“  _ drugs, shady people, that damn Trevor _ , “…things. We tried to go back to the manor once a month but often we weren’t there at the same time, sadly. My parents weren’t that… thrilled about my brother's way of life – sadly it was the Victorian era after all and with the Wilde scandal they were afraid for him – so he joined us once a year, at Christmas. That is when the annual portrait was taken.”

“True, it was hard being gay at that time…” He didn’t add anything, knowing that Mycroft didn’t want to talk about Sherlock and nothing about the politician intimate life, “and one day - you don’t need to give me details, it's okay - you both become vampires. I supposed it was a shock. Even more than liking men!”

Measuring his words, Holmes nodded gravely. “Yes, it was a terrible time for them. We tried to hide it for as long as it was possible, Sherlock and I onboard for once. Funny to think that it took a… a… such an event to bring us together.” With a smirk he shook his head, “to think that was what intrigued our parents first. Not the not ageing, not the never sleeping, , or the fact that we avoided broad daylight – because the shimmering of the eyes in the sun is clearly abnormal – it was the fact that Sherlock and I started to come home at the same time. Without arguing.”

“At the time, the fact that vampires existed was already a known fact, right?” Lestrade was trying to imagine the life of a vampire at that time. Probably still full of superstitions and horror. No synthetic blood.  _ No, don’t think about this! _ “When I think about Anthea’s history… I can’t imagine how it was fifty or sixty years earlier!”

“Why do you think that I  _ created _ my job!” Mycroft chucked.

Thinking about yesterday’s conversation, Greg deadpanned with mirth in his eyes, “because you want to control England of course!” Looking at the pictures, Mycroft was constantly turning pages, he marvelled at the sight of the lavish décor, the peace in his parents’ eyes as they are getting older and older but still showing fantastic energy that transcended the camera. “But the photographer … clearly he realized that something was wrong? And the staff?”

“The photographer was one our ours, so it wasn’t a problem.” Turning the album back, his eyes turning soft as he looked at the traditional pictures of the staff in front of the manor. “We ran the house with the minimum staff, they were all truly loyal.” Placing it once more in front of Greg, he pointed out a gentle old lady. “Like that precious soul, the most loyal of all!”

“MS HUDSON!” Lestrade was flabbergasted, he always supposed some sort of the link between the Holmes boys and her, but to see her like that! As old in the 1890s as she was today! He rarely saw the women, now he understood why!, but she always been a calming presence in Baker Street “What happened, it’s really rare for someone of her age to be turned? At that time where most of the vampires were still drinking… let’s say directly from the source, they weren’t that excited by older people.”

“It wasn’t an attack, who would dare to attack such a wonderful woman, she walked at night for days wanting to be turned into a vampire. She was so insistent that a vampire lady decided to do it…”

“Why?”

“When Sherlock decided to go to London, we asked Ms Hudson, who was in charge of Musgrave at that time but ready for retirement, if she would like to have a home in London.”

“In exchange for looking for Sherlock!”

“Yes, and as she was his old nanny, she said yes quickly. She always loved him so dearly.”

“And when your brother became a vampire…” Greg stopped talking, in awes when presented by the ultimate proof of the woman’s commitment to her charge.

“Yes, she refused to leave him alone and decided to spend her eternity near her dear boy.” The following page was the funerary portrait of the Earl and Lady Holmes. “She decided to do it after our mother’s death… she didn’t want him, us, to be without family.”

“She’s a formidable woman.”

“Yes, the best.” Closing the album, he placed him back on the shelf. “Here you go, DI Lestrade, you know everything about our home, our parents, our younger years…”

“Got the feeling that it’s only the start of what I’m going to discover about you, Mycroft,” Greg smiles. “I just want to say that I appreciate how open you are with me, I know that you are a secretive man… I’ve known you for what, ten years now, and I learned more in the last few days than in all those years.” After a pause, where he tried to compose his next words carefully, he continued. “Is it because now I am part of your… group? Am I more trustworthy now? More interesting?”

_ That and the fact that you have been lounging in pyjamas right in front of me for the last four days!  _ Getting up to let the man rest the last remnant of fatigue, he winked and walked to the door. “You never asked, so who found the other more interesting now, Gregory?”


	9. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little outing in the Scottish countryside… and another question.

“Mycroft, this is marvellous.” Greg was taking in his surroundings, admiring the depth of the thousand different greens, the copper and red of the moss, the breathtaking blues of the sky. Breathing in and out all the  _ flavours _ in the air and feeling each atom as if they were big enough to be seen by a naked eye. The aura – for want of anything better – of the man beside him nearly overpowered by everything but still blissfully present at his side.

It was thrilling, exhilarating, terrifying.

The enhancement of Lestrade’s senses had become apparent the last few days, but the carefully neutral environment of his bedroom wasn’t conducive for the discovery of his new attributes. Following his host advice, he kept his eyes shut for the duration of the fifteen-minute ride. But now! Even dimmed by the tint of the car windows, what a feast it was! The noises and the smells of the old Land Rover didn’t prepare him for the lustrous landscape in front of him and all the sounds and aroma of nature now that Mycroft rolled down the window on his side.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of information he was receiving, Greg started to hyperventilate, incapable of collecting his bearing. Unable once more to admit that it was his new reality. That the world as he sees it right now in front of his now iridescent irises was going to be his life. For all the eternal duration of it _. It can be, I am just… just Greg. I am just a copper, I can’t have… I can’t have… superpowers or… or anything they called that shit. I am not special. I am just… me. _

He was losing it without being able to do something, a second away before he tried to escape from the car when the light touch of a hand on his forearm brought him back.

“Gregory, stay with me. I know this is a lot… You’ve been in the house for nearly a week now, the olfactory and visual pattern always the same, this is all new. Focus on me. It’s going to be fine in a minute or so.” Mycroft’s voice was soothing  _ as if talking to a lover _ , Greg thought without being able to stop the idea, reinforced by the sweet touch of the other man's hand. “Feel the pad of my fingers, the small pressure…” He continued for a few minutes, pressing the tip of his fingers onto Greg’s arm, his other hand slightly extended toward the opened window at his left to stop a nervous Peter from opening the door. The sturdy man was looking at the situation with concern, no doubt still thinking about the new vampire’s attack on his wife not so long ago.

He drove them while Mycroft remained with Greg in the back seat then stepped outside to give them privacy when they arrived at the top of the hill, but he wasn’t at ease. Stopping near the car, Peter ducked his head to look into his boss’ eyes with concern and murmured, “are you sure you’re alright, Sir?”  _ Thank God he’s bound, who knows where he would run off to if he were free. _

Still waiting for Lestrade to relax, Mycroft nodded to Peter, motioned him to go away and started humming, hoping to distract his temporary charge. He waited, his light humming the only sounds besides the chirping birds, and as time passed, he knew that they were going to be fine.

It worked, with every new air Greg started to breathe calmly until he finally shifted his gaze from the infinite hues of the highlands landscape in front of them to watch Mycroft. “I know that… is this… is this from… no it can’t be.”

“Go ahead, try.” Mycroft chuckled, starting a new melody from the same composer.

“No… it can’t… but I know that I am right! Is this from Doctor Who! And that one right now, it’s from that nice episode with Van Gogh?”

“Yes, you are good, you found my secret. I am a fan of Doctor Who.” Smiling shyly, he waited for the teasing that was bound to happen but the only thing in Gregory’s eyes was affection. After a moment of loud silence, if something like that even existed, Mycroft murmured, “are you ready to walk a bit? For your security and Peter’s sanity, I will have to keep your hands bound. I am sorry but –“

“No, no, it’s okay. After what happened the other day, I wouldn’t want to have a fight with him!” He shivered in mock fright, “look at the man, he’s a giant!”

“And we wouldn’t want you to go running after a stag,” the elegant man deadpanned. “I found them quite magnificent.”

Greg frowned at the idea of someone attacking and killing such a splendid animal in cold blood just to drink from it. “This is ridiculous that the idea of killing an animal to feed myself when I can get everything that I need from a bottle is revolting me. When I ate my fair amount of steak…”

The older vampire smiled knowingly as it was something common with ‘modern’ vampires, “you weren’t the one who killed your ‘steak’! When I was young, I saw a lot of butchering on my father’s estate, it was another time.” The fact the older vampire was talking freely about his childhood was a big victory for Greg! Opening his door, Mycroft quickly walked around the car to open the other side. “Here you go, let me get you out of this…” Peter’s rover was sturdy and specially reinforced for the type of adventure a life with the Holmes’ brothers can thrust upon you. The new vampire’s feet were attached to a solid bolt on the floor of the vehicle. Using a small key, he swiftly opened the lock and steered the other man out of the car. “Be careful, you walked a bit in the house and to get into the rover, but it may still be a bit shaky.”

“Thank you, I’m… I’m good I think.” Relishing the feeling of the guiding hand, he stopped moving as he absorbed a new wave of sensation at the man's touch.  _ He’s so nice to me, how could he be so nice?  _ The doubt was still lingering, unable as he was to understand why the powerful man was taking care of him.  _ I am not his first new vampire, he helped Anthea, Ms Hudson probably, how many young people in his office… But, is he always as present as he is with me? Who am I kidding, of course, he is! Why would he be here with me if it wasn’t from habit! Maybe because I am his brother’s friend? _ Remembering that Mycroft spoke of him as a Holmes’ family friend, he stuttered, “really thank you… I know that it is difficult for you to spend time out of the office and away –“  _ Away from your brother, your real friends, your lover, _ eying the golden ring, he gasped in silent pain,  _ his spouse.  _ “Away from everything important in your life.”

“I personally think of you as someone important in my life, Gregory, as you know I am a solitary man and have only a few people that I can call… friends.” He suddenly added as to tamper his honesty, “I know that the same can’t be said for you, Inspector, you have a lot of friends and… mates,” his voice becoming distant.

Greg lightly placed a hand over Mycroft’s to get his attention. “I don’t have a lot of friends, it’s mostly colleagues and football buddies. The hours are crazy, you know that, so there’s not a lot of time to get into serious… relationships.” They walked a bit away from the car until they reached the edge of the small mountain to face a scenery composed of a shimmering loch and mountains after mountains. Knowing that he was going to get a reaction, he quoted melodramatically, “what are men to rock and mountains…”

Mycroft rewarded him with a warm chuckle, “Pride and Prejudice? You are a curious man, Gregory.”

“My ex-wife was a big fan of Colin Firth, I think we watched the series ten times!” Lestrade snickered.

“Oh yes, the one who –“

“Yes, yes, I know, the PE teacher.” Shaking his head in disgust, he sighed. “What a fool I was!”

“Don’t judge yourself, Gregory, relationships aren’t easy and who could condemn you if you gave the benefit of the doubt a few times too many?”

“Sherlock,” the DI shook his head, thinking about the few times the younger man tried to open his eyes, “Sherlock judged me and still does for my blindness!”

“My dear brother is now realizing that having a partner isn’t all black and white,” Mycroft sighed, thinking about the menace that was still hovering over Sherlock and John.

As Greg motioned his bound hands in direction of a nearby bench, they walked up to the old wooden bench and admired their surroundings for a moment. Unable to contain his curiosity, the DI asked, “what do you think of Sherlock and John’s relationship?”

“I have no right to  _ think  _ anything about it. Is this really today’s question?” Mycroft protested, “Sherlock is an adult, he has been one for a century in fact, and they are both ridiculously in love with each other.”

“Yes, okay, it’s not your business to intervene, it’s private, I know, I know,” Greg was clearly aware that the other man was fibbing, so he probed a bit more, “but… deep down in your heart, what do you think of it?”

Holmes remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the line of the horizon as if he was trying to find the exact point where the mountains and the sky touched. Lost in his thoughts, he carelessly placed his hand back on Gregory’s forearm; nearly stroking it. “I… I think my brother is truly lucky to have found such a companion.” His voice was veiled by sadness, the joy of his brother’s happiness barely enough to hide the heartbreak of his own solitude. “They are quite well suited, don’t you think? Even if they are so different, they are also so very much alike in so many ways.”

Greg kept his head turned towards the loch with difficulty, when the only thing he wanted to do was to look into Mycroft’s eyes to see if they are as troubled as he must certainly be, he softly concurred, “yes, they do. He’s… he’s been alone for as long as I know him. Does he... ever? I don’t know a lot about  _ yours _ , I mean,  _ his _ … his personal life.”

“I shouldn’t talk about all this,  _ we _ … I mean Sherlock, is a private person despite his flamboyant attitude.” Considering his words carefully as he realized that the conversation unexpectedly wasn’t just about his younger brother, he finally gave in and murmured, “he was in love once, in his previous life, but it turned horribly wrong. It left him… despondent and overly careful about all things regarding sentiment. Decade after decade of seeing the flaws in human nature is the ultimate proof that often sentiment is a chemical defect -”

“- found in the losing side, yes I know! Sherlock has said it to me numerous times! Said that it stole the catchphrase from you in fact.” _ Is this the same for you? Are you still thinking that? _ Greg wanted to ask but didn’t dare to. The equilibrium was already so thin.  _ I think that he wants me as a friend if I considered his previous reaction. Is he able to trust me? To open to me even more that he already has. What did he say last evening when I asked if I was more trustworthy and interesting now that I am a vampire… Oh, yes, that maybe it’s I who found him more interesting now…  _ Without realizing, he muttered a deep, “yeahhhhh, I am.”

“What?” A dumbfounded Mycroft asked, realizing that he was losing track of the conversation.

Wanting to take advantage of the beautiful place and their intimate position, near each other on a small bench, Greg dived in, “yesterday, you asked me if I am finding you more interesting now because I am asking all those questions.” He turned his head casually as if he wasn’t handcuffed, “I always found you pretty interesting, and just plain pretty as well if I may,” he winked, “but you were definitely out of my league. Let’s say that my…. accident… levelled the field between us One of the few advantages of now becoming a vampire. Even if you are of course still more elegant, still more clever and richer than I will ever be.”

“DI Lestrade, I, I don’t know what to say. I –“ Mycroft was speechless! “You don’t know what the implications of -” 

Greg was about to simply kiss the man – Holmes boys always talked way too much – when Peter rushed toward them with his phone in hand.

“Sir, it’s Miss Anthea, an emergency! Something happened at Musgrave Hall!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a list of all the remaining question Greg wants to ask Mycroft... Let me know if you have any good idea :-) Maybe I'm going to steal it ;-)


	10. Day 6, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft must avert a crisis while trying not to think about Gregory’s lips. It’s hard. The DI explored his host’s bedroom… and asked the most personal question of all for a vampire.

_ Am I crazy or was Gregory going to kiss me?  _ Shaking his head and quickly pushing away any idea about what exactly Peter interrupted by his intervention, Mycroft took the phone from his man’s hand, “Anthea?”

The voice of the PA was uncustomary agitated. “It’s Sherlock, he left Musgrave without an escort, we don’t know where he is!”

Getting up, Holmes walked a bit away from the bench, “any message? Is Doctor Watson aware of anything?”

“He left him a note saying ‘ _ Don’t worry, I am going to be back soon. Never doubt that I love you and that I will never let anyone touch you. Devoutly yours, S. Holmes. _ ’” Knowing that her boss was going to be mad at her, she winced before adding in one breath, “yesterday, I sent him a copy of the report about Frederic’s implication in Lestrade’s attack and his association with Moriarty –“

“For Christ’s sake! ANTHEA! You know him, you shouldn’t have sent him information like that without my consent… I’ve got to talk to him before he gets himself killed!” Without giving her a chance to apologise and already feeling guilty for his swearing, he abruptly ended the call and tried his brother’s number. It went directly to the voicemail, of course, “Sherlock, brother dear, I don’t know where you are right now, but I know what you are probably planning to do. DON’T. DO. IT! Frederic is only a string-puppet in Moriarty’s hands, you know the man wants you! Don’t go near the rogue vampires’ lair, it’s only a trap! Call me, be safe and don’t be stupid.” Playing his last card, he added, “John wants you alive.” He paused, his voice suddenly heavy, “I do too. Come on ‘Lock, call me… I’m going to help you. We’re going to solve this together.” Without a second to spare he started texting, hoping that Sherlock was going to be more responsive and contacted him back. His eyes fixed on his phone, he shouted, “PETER! Help DI Lestrade, we are going back to the cottage.”

Greg was back in his room, his hands only loosely bound together now a small comfort. Despite his partially regained liberty – being able to walk in the room to watch the scenery through the window or looking at the dozens of books scattered was a huge improvement – he couldn’t relax. He knew that Sherlock was in trouble, or that if he wasn’t that his brother was going to kill him anyway!  _ What happened, is it the gang that attacked me? Is John okay?  _ Not being to help was horrible… Staying under the threshold of his bedroom, he focussed his attention downstairs, trying to make out his host’s murmur. His hearing was better than before, but Mycroft was very careful. The tension in the small house was unbearable! At some point, the tone of the conversation changed as he clearly was finally able to talk to his brother. Stepping back to hide from the tall silhouette on the first floor, Greg listened.

“Sherlock! I am disappointed by your stupidity.” The elder Holmes’ voice was quivering with anger, “you knew he was taunting you. His goal was to get you out of Musgrave, out of security and you run like a dimwit! Thank God you realized how stupid it was before attacking Frederic!” Unable to listen to the detective’s response Greg waited until Mycroft’s exasperation returned, “don’t tell me that you did that for John! You left the doctor alone and –“. For a few minutes, the only noise coming from downstairs was agitated steps and exasperated sighs. “SHERLOCK! Don’t say things like that… you know that I am able to think about others,” Greg stepped down a few steps to be able to catch what Mycroft was saying, “that I am able to love someone. First, besides all this, I love you dearly. And I loved father and mother, Anthea and –“ the vampire remained silent as if gathering the courage, “I loved Elizabeth, I loved her so much! So, don’t tell me that I can’t understand your will to protect John!” Sherlock reply wasn’t what he expected probably and his voice turned to ice. “Don’t you dare bring DI Lestrade into this discussion. Return home and wait for further instruction.” The end of the discussion was marked by the muttering of many curses until Holmes was back on the phone with a member of his team.

Backing up to his room while thinking about why is name was pronounced, Greg stopped in front of Mycroft’s door. It wasn’t closed, a small push would be enough to open it properly.  _ A small gush of wind, the vibration of my steps on the centuries-old floor…  _ Without thinking, the detective delicately pressed his hand on the wood, putting just enough pressure to slowly open the door.  _ Oooops! My bad.  _ Silently, he was a detective after all, he entered the bedroom. It was the exact mirror of his. Same window, same dimensions, same door probably connecting with a similar size en-suite. But the similarities stopped there. Where Sherlock’s room had an air of guest room, Mycroft’s was far more intimate. The top of his beautifully crafted dresser was full of pictures. His parents, Sherlock and himself as children, a copy of the traditional family portrait, a miniature of a new born, and a beautiful watercolour of a delicate young lady.  _ Who is she? Is she the woman he called Elizabeth?  _ Turning his curious gaze away with difficulty, he walked near the built-in bookshelves. He wasn’t surprised by the presence of many classics, old texts in Greek and Latin as well as many French novels. He was dumbfounded by a whole shelf of the ‘for dummies’ series.  _ But I presume it’s a pretty effective way to stay on part of things when so many things keep changing around you. A good Operating System or HTML Markup for dummies can only help! _

Already lost in Mycroft’s world and unable to stop himself, he opened the armoire to be greeted by tweed jackets and cable-knit sweaters. He saw that Holmes’ clothes were different here, he was more approachable without his customary 3-pieces suits, but seeing all this mixed with the wonderfully masculine fragrance of the man was… quite something. Nibbling his bottom lip, he slowly caressed the warm fabric when a hanging suit bag catches his eyes.  _ Ooooh, what do we have here? _ Sliding the zip down just enough, he stroked the fine wool of one of Mycroft's precious suits. Lestrade’s imagination turned wild as the various ways to get the man in or out of the suit appeared in his mind. Followed by a tightness in his boxers. _ Good to know that it’s still working.  _ He sighed, still sad that the moment they shared in the afternoon was long gone. 

He was about to tear himself away from the temptation of simply living in the armoire when the small sound of someone clearing his voice made him jump!

“Mister Lestrade?” Carol’s mischievous voice called, “I brought your drink. Do you want it here, or in  _ your _ bedroom?”

Muttering a stupid lie about how he was looking for towels, he grabbed the bottle from the laughing woman and asked all the divinities that she wouldn’t rat him out to Mycroft.

The sun was down when he heard the heavyweight of Holmes’ steps on the stairs. Holding his breath, Greg noted the hesitation on the lending. After a moment, where time was strangely suspended, a small knock resonated in his room. Quickly getting up from what was usually Mycroft’s chair, the policeman sat on his bed, his back upon the upholstered headboard and breathlessly called, “enter…”

Opening the door, the vampire greeted him with a nod and sat in the chair, smiling as he felt that it had been was occupied by Lestrade not a minute earlier. “I am sorry, you were relaxing and I… I burst in on you like that.” He sighed. The younger man looked exhausted, drained…

“What happened Mycroft, do you want to talk about it, can I help?” Even if he understood that it was probably too complicated for him to do something, the feeling of being completely helpless was horrible!

“It’s okay, at the moment, at any rate.” He smiled, surrounded by Greg’s scent, he was at peace for the first time since Anthea called. “As you must have realized, Sherlock left the security of our ancestral home to go on a personal vendetta.”

“He worries about John, it’s normal, no?” 

“Yes, of course, but it’s also incredibly stupid. If he’s killed, he won’t be able to protect Doctor Watson.” Looking away, the delectable sight of Gregory was hard to resist after the kiss they nearly shared, he murmured, “he’s not used to dealing with rogue vampires. He always preferred great puzzles and mysteries.” He raised his shoulders with a smirk, “random killings by vampires stuck in the wrong century aren’t enough to keep him stimulated.”

“I heard you, you said… A king? I heard something about a group of vampires living in the margins of society,” he chuckled. “A king? What’s wrong with our Queen?”

“The keyword in what you just said, Gregory, is ‘our’. They do not admit that non-v have the upper hand,” he raised his hand to stop the policeman’s protestation, “or even that we shared the management of the country. For Frederic, for THEM, vampires must rule over everyone…”

He frowned at the way Mycroft winced when he said the name. “I heard that name when you first talk with Anthea, Frederic, is he the one who called himself a king?”

“Yes, but be careful, for them it’s Elizabeth who usurps  _ his _ throne.” Wanting to stir the conversation in another direction, he asked casually, “have you read something new, now that you are able to peruse my brother's eclectic books collection more comfortably?”

“No, you won’t.” Greg enunciated clearly.

Voluntarily obtuse, Mycroft blinked, “I won’t what?”

“Evade the question that is coming,” he tried to carelessly cross his arms but was blocked by the manacles, “you owe me a question.”

“If I remember well, on your first day here I said that you may ask  _ two questions _ per day and that I was going to reply to the one I choose too. So far, you only asked one question per day… and I complied. But now, ask two questions and I am choosing.” Mycroft watched as Greg closed his eyes for a moment and, to his dismay, slowly smiled predatorily.

“Okay. First question. How did you become a vampire? What happened and who made you… Second choice. You are wearing a wedding ring, what’s the story?”

Without thinking, the older vampire fingers started playing with his ring.  _ As if dealing with Sherlock wasn’t enough for the day. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smaller one! But next one is going to be completely about Mycroft story. So... which question would you like him to pick? 
> 
> Stay safe, wear a mask, wash your hands, yadda, yadda, yadda


	11. Day 6, part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes isn’t certain that he wants to continue answering Gregory’s questions.

The silence that fell unto the cosy bedroom went on for too many painful minutes. Mycroft looked lost, Greg’s requests the last push before the brilliant man’s sanity vanished _.  _ His eyes were open, but they never fell upon the bed, clearly avoiding Gregory. The powerful man looked suddenly so alone as if everything was resting on his frail well-dressed shoulders. Which in a way was accurate of course. The detective started to question his curiosity, feeling like a nuisance instead of a friendly figure.  _ It’s true that today has been horrible, it was quite tactless of me to ask such personal questions.  _ He thought about their previous conversation, just before the never-happened-probably-never-will-kiss.  _ Are we friends now? If it’s the case, I am not a good one.  _ He was about to say to forget it, to just continue to read Lagardère and Aurora story, when the older vampire turned his gaze in his direction and started to speak in a measured tone.

“You asked about  _ how _ I became a –“

“Mycroft, it was horrible for me to ask such a question after the day –“

“No, it’s all right,” he interrupted while sitting comfortably in the chair, “it’s going to help you understand a lot of things about what’s going on right now and I think you deserve it. You… you’ve been really understanding about all this,” his lips formed a warm smile, “most of the new vampires are far more aggressive and disagreeable.”

_ Did they all fell in love with you? _ “They are usually also younger I presume?” Greg joked, wanting to lighten the atmosphere.

“Yes, usually vampires choose stunning young things, you and I are the anomaly.” Before the other man protested, he smiled, “even if of course you are quite attractive even if you are no longer a young man.”

“Mycroft, you are one of the most -“

Not letting Greg pay the compliment to him, he continued without a pause, “to know how I became a vampire, I must talk about the ‘why’ and go back a year or so before the actual event…” He sighed at the painful thought of revisiting that period of his life. “You know that, even back then, I worked for the government.”

“Yes, I remember, you liked Gladstone but still hated Thatcher.”

The public administration man chuckled at the quick summary of his political view, “after nearly a decade in London, work… work became my only occupation, the only important thing in my life.” Something that looked like sadness and shame passed rapidly in Mycroft’s eyes. “I am sad to say… that I rarely visited our parents, and I also neglected Sherlock who was now living in the capital.” His voice was now barely above a murmur as if he were talking to himself, “he always been difficult. I personally thrived in the academic world, getting diplomas and award after award, simply ignoring the ordinary people and concentrating on people with power or connections. My brother replied to every insult, harassed incompetent tutors, it was horrible. When he finally got his degree, he left for London. But we were living in different neighbourhoods, moving in different circles. I was already well established and saw him rarely. Almost never in fact, except when he was in deep trouble. Like today, he worked with Scotland Yard, walking in all the shady parts of the town… Doing,” Mycroft censored himself, not knowing how much Gregory knew about Sherlock, “doings thing that he’s not proud of now.” 

Lestrade nodded knowingly, “I know that he used to do drugs, a 7% solution of cocaine if I remember, but that he stopped after he became a vampire. Always thought that the thrill and the enhanced perception of the world around him was enough to entertain him without any chemical supplement!”

“Yes, something like that… And I think he’s afraid of what he could do under the influence. You realized first-hand how strong a newborn vampire is, how – even with the best intention – a situation can turn bad so easily.” The image of Sherlock after he turned popped in his mind. That terrible night where Ms Hudson called for him in a panic because his younger brother was prostrated in his flat, the blood of a dead dog all over him was forever burned in his memory. When he arrived, the old lady was covered in blood herself because she hugged the young vampire – at the risk of her own life – until he stopped crying and fell into a troubled sleep. Quickly understanding what was happening, Mycroft and one of his trusted men, chained and transported Sherlock to the cottage. “As I said already, I am not entitled to talk about my brother’s life but let's say that in order to explain how I became a vampire I will have to say only one thing, that he turned two months before me.”

“What year was it?”

“1895. I learned that something horribly wrong had happened. I ran to his flat, but it was too late. A week too late exactly… Let us say that I knew that I failed him and that I decided that it wasn’t going to happen again.” The determination in Mycroft’s voice was clearly audible, as resolute over a century later. “As you know I was already in possession of this cottage, it was quite different at that time of course, so I brought him here. The journey was horrible, far longer than today, we gave him laudanum to keep him as calm as possible. The transformation was already completed, he was confused, afraid. It was painful to watch knowing that If I – “ Holmes stopped, the guilt about how he left his younger brother falling into the claws of that despicable and ruthless manipulative bastard still raw, “It was a different time, the blood wasn’t readily available and the vampires weren’t really ‘out’…” Lestrade remained silent, knowing very well what the other man was talking about: human blood directly from the source was most of the vampire's diet at that time. “It was horrible on so many accounts for my brother but, for me, culpability was slowly killing me. Sherlock was alone and had consorted with… the wrong person. I wasn’t checking on him enough to understand what’s going on… Furthermore, he… he didn’t come to me when he… was in trouble. Hiding at night until he finally found the courage or was desperate enough to go back to Baker Street.”

“It’s not your fault, you know, siblings… siblings’ relationships are often complicated.”  _ An understatement for the Holmes brothers! _

“I will never forget the doubt in his eyes when he finally woke up, in this same bedroom” his eyes surveyed the room as if the scene was still etched in front of his eyes, “he looked at me as if I were a ghost.” Lestrade, hearing the tears in the usually emotionless voice, extended his hands in the direction of Mycroft’s, hoping that the man would feel free to take comfort in his presence. “He said to me,  _ you are not my brother, my brother does not care if I am alive or dead. Go away from me, let me die in peace even if I do not deserve it. _ ” Without realizing it, the vampire put a hand upon Gregory’s bound ones. “It was  **I** who didn't deserve to be near him. I failed him; I failed my parents… To know that I let down my young brother, my only friend, so badly… it was atrocious. I decided that never again… that I would help him to shape his new life. That I was going to erase all the obstacles in the new road that was his.”

Greg finally understood, “oh no, Mycroft, I always thought that you were attacked together or something like that, I realized it wasn’t that when you said that you turned two months later, but you… for you it was voluntary. Like Ms. Hudson.”

“Yes, but years before the dear old lady decided to change.”

“Okay, so now I know the unbelievably brave reason why, but who turned you?”

“Who?” Mycroft snickered, “I wanted to become not only a vampire but a powerful one. I wanted to control the destiny of vampires in the UK, to lobby for laws changes and the annihilation of bigotry and stupid superstitions.”

“So, you needed a powerful vampire…”

“Yes, so I went to talk with Frederic.”

“Frederic? Is it the same…”, as Mycroft nodded ominously, Greg swore, “fuck, really? You went directly to that makeshift king?” As the other man rolled his eyes, he shook his head, “okay, okay, the vampires’ king.”

“Yes, it’s him, I choose the king as sire. If I were to become a vampire, I wanted to be linked to the most powerful of all. I wanted to create a partnership, some sort of association. Discreetly, of course.”

“And he accepted?”

“Oh yes, he was thrilled at the idea of having a member of the government on his side… I presented my vision, a collaboration between vampires and non-v, getting out of the dark-age, searching for alternative ways of feeding, living in broad daylight amongst everyone!”

“It didn’t happen on their side, as they are clearly as shady as they were, what happened to your grand plan?” Greg asked, thinking about the motley crew that attacked him not a week earlier. “You clearly were able to do a lot for vampires, the changes in the legislation and the public perception are huge, but…”

Mycroft walked to a small cabinet, opening a door he reached for a good bottle of whisky and crystal tumblers, “want some?” as Greg smiled in assent, he poor two fingers before getting back in his chair. They raised their glasses silently. “Frederic didn’t want to work with non-v, he wanted to take control of the country.”

“I don’t understand, he accepted. He changed you!”

“Yes, he lied because he thought that he would be able to control me after…” the vampire chuckled at the idea, “the fool! He was still full of the romantic idea that a vampire is somewhat bound to the vampires he created. He quickly realized that I wasn’t going to be bendable…” Mycroft was still chuckling while nursing his glass, but a veil of grief fell on his silhouette. 

“What happened?” Greg asked full of worries, even if he knew he was a century late.

“Let’s just say… that I know first hand what it is to deal with –“ he motioned elegantly in Greg’s direction as if to say ‘all this’, “without support.” Without even realizing it, he pressed a hand against his wrist, as to push away an imaginary pain. “He left me alone in a room, without any contact… without any… food. For days, and days, and days. I lost count.”

The detective turned to sit at the edge of the bed, placing his hands over Mycroft’s knees. The subject was clearly upsetting.  _ What have they done to you? Poor love. _ “You are not alone right now, Mycroft, and never will be…” Greg murmured, hoping that his intention was going to be well received.

Unable to resist, the vampire tilted his head and rested his forehead against Greg’s before murmuring. “After a few days, when I was completely turned, he tried to bribe me… Telling me that if I accept to work with him, to become a part of his gang he was going to give me a young girl or a young boy. I was so hungry, so blood-crazed that I nearly said ‘yes’ so many times! But the mere idea of killing an innocent -”

Thinking about his attack upon Carol a few days ago, the detective lightly kissed Mycroft’s shoulder. “You are so courageous… I am so proud to have you as a friend.”

“When he realized that I was afraid of… of succumbing he changed his game. He threatened to push an adolescent – he even brought one in front of me – into my cell if I did not comply.” He remained silent on the fact that Frederic’s men slowly cut the young girl until the room reeked from her blood. “I would have drank… I was so famished…”

“Who saved you? Sherlock… Sherlock was still in Scotland or back to London?”

“He was in London, completely unaware of my plan. Still adjusting to his new life.” Straightening his back, he looked Gregory into his eyes and smiled, submerged by a wave of affection. “A good man, a good man saved me.” He sipped the rest of his whisky slowly, savouring the taste and waiting for his heartbeat to stabilize.  _ Gregory, what are you doing to me? _ Hoping that the new vampire couldn’t hear the erratic tattoo, he focussed on the rest of his story. “A man was moved by my proposition, disgusted by what his life had become and by the way the coven ran its business. By all the unnecessary murders.”

“It was so brave of him…”

“Yes, really brave. He came one morning, the rest of the gang was in a different state of inebriation or nakedness, holding a bottle of ox’s blood. He offered it to me, I was so hungry that I drank without even thinking about it. I knew that it wasn’t as good for us as human blood, thank God for the NHS’s fake blood, but it was enough to give me the strength to just calm down. Francis is a bright young man; he found the keys and was able to help me get out.”

“You were, what, around one hundred kilometres from London?” Greg guessed.

“Yes, but at that time it was a long-distance! Three to four hours on a horse. Horses don’t like vampires, don’t know why, so we stole a carriage and ran away.” Touching the other man’s arm, he stopped talking, thinking about all that happened since then. “I asked for a two week holiday and stayed home with Sherlock and Ms Hudson. Fighting the will to kill peo -,” a sigh, “just drinking animals’ blood. When I was in a better condition, I started to wear glasses to hide the shimmering in my eyes and went back to work. First, it was discreet, I created bonds with like-minded vampires, trying to create a powerful  _ contrepoid _ to Frederic’s little realm. After ten years, everything was at the right place for me. The conditions were starting to get better, more people were out publicly as vampires, and – of course - I stopped ageing and my colleagues started to suspect something, so I discreetly announced that I was a vampire and created my Office.”

“What a story, you are such a brilliant man!” Thinking about the vampire who helped him escape, he asked, “and Francis?”

“Still with me, he’s the head of my security team, and happily married.”

“Good for him _!” And that way I know that you are in safety… _ “But what happened to Frederic? He is still alive, all right, but he never tried to get to you? Retaliate in some way? And what about his men, the ones who attacked me?”

“He’s always behind many things. Fake protestors, hoaxes against vampires, he wanted the vampires to be ostracized again in order to gain supporters. To create a movement against the non-v, to force a reaction.” Mycroft’s disgust was obvious.

“But… vampires are surely not that dumb!”

Frowning at the turn of phrase, the clearly ‘not dumb’ vampire argued, “Germans were not  _ all _ idiots, neither the Italians under Mussolini. You just need a cause and a good orator.”

Unaware that he offended Mycroft, Greg added, “but vampires must realize how better  _ we _ all are now that  _ they _ are on  _ our _ side.” A small amount of disappointment appeared on Mycroft’s face, right before Greg realized what he just said. “Sorry! It was just a… a figure of speech. I know that  _ I _ am a vampire now.  _ I _ am on your side!”

“There is no side.” Suddenly exhausted, Mycroft stood, unable to speak anymore, “good night, Lestrade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know didn't talk about the ring! I will, I will soon :-) I finally decided that this was more important. 
> 
> Poor Mycroft, he clearly sacrificed his life out of his guilt and to protect his little brother. I hope that life is going to be nice to him from now. A beautiful goldfish with little fangs maybe :-)
> 
> ALSO! If you didn't read the first part of this series and want to know more about Sherlock's story: Go read it :-)


	12. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes something small happens… and something is revealed.

Greg opened his eyes and studied the astounding craftsmanship of the beams supporting the roof.  _ To think that they have had this cottage for nearly 125 years, that Peter is the great-great-great child of his first groundskeeper. Must be fun having that kind of money… But when you never stop working, you keep piling up money, right?  _ He frowned, curious,  _ did vampires retire at some point? Sherlock has been a detective since Jack-the-Ripper! _ It was weird for him to think that Sherlock was once in his exact situation. All cooped-up in the small cottage until he was able to behave until he was able to deal with the changes within himself without risking the lives of others or his own.  _ What Mycroft did is brave and selfless, even if he said that it was out of guilt. I was such a git, it was going so well after such a horrible day, the most private man in the whole country opened up to me and what did I do? Fucked-up everything! _

He was hiding his face in despair  _ slash _ screaming into his pillow when he heard a small knock.  _ Mycroft! _

“Oh, good morning sir!” Carol entered the room with a bright smile, oblivious to Greg disappointment, “isn’t a wonderful day?” She gave Greg a bottle and walked to the window which she opened wide. The odour and the sound of the surrounding penetrated the space, surrounding the vampire like a well-known blanket. Grinning at the man as she straightened up the room, she murmured with mirth in her eyes, “drink everything, and you'll have a surprise!”

“What –“

She acted mysteriously as her husband stepped inside the room with a key in hand.

“Boss said that you’re ready.”

“Oh, my last restriction… is he sure that – “

“If Mister Holmes said that you are ready, you are.”

“When did he ask for you to…”  _ before of after last night blunter. _

“Yesterday at dinner time, when I came to stock the fire.” Without further discussion, he put the key in place and turned until it released. “There you are, a free man! You can explore the house and the immediate surroundings, but don’t go wandering around.” The warning was barely concealed, it was clear that Peter doesn’t want to spend his day running after him! “It’s for your security as well, you know, not because he doesn’t trust you.”

“Don’t worry, just being able to walk without restrain, to go read outside… it’s a miracle.” He rolled his shoulders and wrists and moaned loudly. “Oh, that’s soooo good…”

Carol silently chuckled at the thought that their boss probably heard that from the first floor and winked at her husband. “You’ll find everything you need for a bath or a shower as well as a change of clothes, you must be tired of extra-casual clothing! Let us know if you need anything!”

“I will, thank you, thank you for everything.”

“No problem,” Peter scuffed, “happy that everything is going fine with Mist-,” he paused, “with everything.” Taking the hand of his now openly giggling wife, he left the room.

One hour later, Greg glanced at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t the first time he checked the appearance of his new self, but, now all clean, after his first wank in a week, freshly shaved, newly clothed in items that looked pricier than his whole wardrobe… he was feeling really fine.  _ I am looking good, jeez, maybe just maybe I can get him to forget how I misspoke last night.  _ He was still feeling the shame of his tone, the way he spoke about vampires, calling them fools to even listen to Frederic, the way he spoke about  _ us _ versus  _ them _ , as if he wasn’t a vampire now!  _ It was so stupid of me! But everything is going too quick, a week ago I was just a regular bloke.  _ Straightening his back, he decided to not hide like a coward and resolutely walk down the stairs to find his host.  _ I can do this It’s not a killer or a drug dealer… it’s only Mycroft bloody Holmes. _

The first floor was empty, a fresh basket of muffins and scones was the only proof that Carol and Peter were there before. Without thinking, he chose a cranberry muffin even if he wasn’t hungry, feeling weirdly free after seven days of confinement and restriction. The kitchen was small but with top of the line appliances while maintaining a traditional cottage feel. The big refectory table was full of files, maps and pictures of unfriendly looking people… Interested, but not wanting to intrude, Greg barely glanced at was probably the great plan to defeat Moriarty and Frederic. A closed laptop left unattended was further evidence of how Mycroft trusted his employees.  _ This is so far from his office in London! _ It was so strange, the homely atmosphere, the relaxed layout of the furniture, the books, the CDs and DVDs. Chuckling softly, the policeman spotted a few rock bands amongst the symphonic recordings.  _ Nothing is lost, after all.  _ A large selection of various genres of movies and series - enough to occupy the long winter days and nights - occupied a section of the big library. As expected, the complete Doctor Who collection was upfront. The surprise was the few autographed collectables.  _ Mister Holmes is a real fan, well, well, well.  _

His heart somersaulted at the idea of cuddling in front of the fireplace, with a good film and a whisky. 

Turning to the window, he spied Mycroft and Peter who were talking energetically about some work to do on the extensive ground or something else. The vampire was magnificent, the auburn hair and the light stubble that graced his face since they arrived here sparkled from the sun. He looked relaxed, at peace. The mental exertion of the day before completely gone or artistically concealed.  _ He’s so gorgeous and brilliant.  _ Looking around the room, his eyes fell on a group of aquarelles. They were magnificent, an eerie yet perfect representation of the cottage and the mountains that surrounded it, of the animals and flora, exquisitely and professionally framed. Moving closer to see all the details, he was able to read the signature of the author.  _ M. Holmes.  _ Without knowing why Greg’s eyes filled with tears at the idea of being able to see something that personal.  _ Oh God, I love the man.Today is going to be a great day! _

Turning on his heel, he put his hand on the door handle and walked outside. 

The conversation was flowing nicely, the weather was splendid, yesterday’s awkward moment a thing from the past… it was magic! They talked about their favourite movies, Greg taunted Mycroft relentlessly about the few emo albums he saw in his collection, the government man admitted that he had seen a few pictures of the detective when he was the guitarist of a punk band in his youth.

“Mycroft! How could you…” Greg laughed, sincerely happy and at ease for the first time since he opened his eyes to find himself tied up in his bed seven days earlier. He wiggled his eyebrows, “don’t tell me you have a thing for bad boys?”

“Why not,” he murmured crossing his arms as he leaned on an old rock wall, “Sherlock always as a  _ thing _ for soldiers after all.”

“Mister Holmes, are you flirting with me…”

“It depends if you want me –“ The sentence wasn’t completed before Greg finally captured the lips he dreamed off since he met the man, even if he had never admitted it to himself. He wrapped his arms tightly around Mycroft as if afraid that he was going to disappear. After minutes of blissfully deep kisses, Mycroft uncrossed his arms, still caught against the other man’s, and softly pressed his hands on Greg’s torso.

“Oh, sorry, sorry…” the sensation of loss was horrible, his body wanted more, wanted to taste the other man, to absorb his essence, to become one. “It was too quick, I am sorry –“

Placing a finger on the reddened lips, Mycroft smiled coyly, “it’s only because we have spectators.”

Turning his head, Greg realized that Peter and Carol were only a few meters away, having a lunch break. Hiding his face in the tall man’s neck, he muttered, “we are kissing outside in broad daylight as if we were adolescents.”

“Don’t worry, think about what they are going to be subject to when Sherlock and Doctor Watson come here when everything is going to be over.”

“Oh my God… poor them,” raising his head he shouted, “sorry for that... unprofessional display!”

“Oh, DI Lestrade, from here it seemed very professional!” Peter teased, mockingly, eating his apple.

Carol, the sweet woman, protested for the sake of her employer, “darling, stop teasing Mister Holmes and the detective, they are so cute together!” The burly man chuckled and murmured a lewd comment for her ear only when Carol, wanting to stop the banting that was probably uncomfortable for the new couple, pushed her husband playfully. 

Totally forgetting that Peter was cutting his fruit with his jackknife. 

The cut was minor, but enough.

Enough to send days of self-control to the wind.

Jumping over the small wall even before Mycroft realized what was going on, Greg soared until he reached the couple. He stopped a few steps before the man who was now pushing his screaming wife away. Completely lost to the world around him, the blood-crazed vampire never heard the whip-like sound of the strong anaesthetic that Holmes shot, paralyzing him on the spot. Mycroft rushed and was there right on time to cradle the man to the ground as he fell asleep. Carol hovered around them, feeling miserable. “I am so sorry Peter, your knife! It was so stupid of me, and Mister Holmes… and poor Mister Lestrade”

“It was a mere accident, don’t worry.” Mycroft, shaking a bit, put back the gun in his holster. “It was going so well, but it’s not bad that something like that happened here when we are with him.” Looking into Peter’s eyes, he asked, “are you okay my friend?”

“Yes, it’s but a deep scratch, nothing that Carol won’t be able to take care of.” He waited a second and added, “and you, Sir, are you okay…”

“Do not worry, you know that blood does not affect me anymore, especially such a small amount.” He kneeled near Lestrade, muddying his nice corduroy trousers without a second thought, “it’s Gregory’s reaction that stunned me. I know that it’s normal at this stage, but… it was a shock. Please go take care of your wound and come back to help me. We’re going to put him back to bed.”

“Yes, Sir, and for a stunned man, you reacted pretty quickly if I may say so.” Taking their lunch with them, they hurried to the cottage to patch Peter’s small cut.

Half an hour later, Greg woke up slowly.  _ Wonderful _ , he sighed, deeply content _ , I am in a comfortable bed, the afternoon light is getting inside filtered by a lace curtain, a small breeze, perfect for a nap.  _ He realized in wonder that his head was in Mycroft’s lap. The man of his dream was playing with his hair tenderly while humming softly.  _ Oh, that’s only a dream then, never - _

“Gregory,” Mycroft murmured, still stroking Greg’s grey hair, “are you back with us?”

At once, the DI remembered everything and flew from the bed, now totally awake! “Mycroft! I, Oh my God, did I… Peter!”

“Stay calm, Gregory, do not worry… everything is fine.” The older vampire said comfortingly. “You did nothing wrong and –“

“NOTHING WRONG!” The policeman was pacing the room, gesticulating in despair. “Nothing! I attacked Peter! Have I learned nothing after I tried to kill Carol!” He suddenly realized that his hands weren’t bound. “You… why didn’t you put the handcuffs back? I… I am dangerous.” Exhausted by the stress, he dropped to his knees on the carpeted floor and whined. “Why did I do that… I am a horrible man and –“

Rising from the bed Mycroft sat near Greg gracefully, as if it was the posh git’s habit to sit on the floor, and hugged him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, it wasn’t planned but as a test goes, it was a pretty good one and you passed with flying colours.”

“But –“

“You stopped, Gregory, you stopped… yes, you ran to reach him, but you stopped.”

Breathless, as if he was reliving everything a second time, the young vampire muttered, “I was going to, I needed it so much… the… the hunger, the desire to just take it was so loud in my mind.”

“Yes, but your heart said something else…” delicately, Holmes placed a hand onto Greg’s heart, “don’t you see it?”

“What? I remember the smell of the blood, the fear into Carol’s eyes, the resolution into Peter’s… then nothing, oblivion.”

“That was me, a sedative, sorry…” He delicately pressed a small kiss on Greg’s cheek, “so sorry. So you don’t remember what happened when you stopped in front of Peter?”

“No. Not at all,” the detective rolled his head to bury his face in the crook of Mycroft’s neck.

“You may remember the urge to jump and take Peter’s blood, but when you stopped in front of him he told me that you kept muttering, ‘ _ I don’t want that, I am better than that’ _ over and over. So you see, your biology was running havoc but your mind and your heart were at the right place. Therefore, my dear beautiful man,” he kissed his lips, “you don’t need restraints.”

They stayed engulfed in each other’s arms for a long time until Mycroft groaned.

“What?”

“Sorry to spoil the mood, but I think that I am getting a cramp… we could, “ he chewed his bottom lip, “go back to bed.”

“How could you be so nice to me, I’ve spoiled everything.”

“And Sherlock spoiled our moment when we were looking at the lock, so that time was on me. We are even.”

“And now? What going to happen from now?”

“No more drama, maybe?”

“Holmes’ boys are the princes of mischief; I don’t think that ‘no drama’ is anywhere in our scenarios.” Pulling himself with the help of the edge of the bed, he extended a hand toward Mycroft.

“Thank you, Gregory,” without thinking too much, he went back to his position before Greg left the bed, an open non-predatory smile on his lips. “No more cramp, come back here, just to rest… nothing serious.”

Looking at the bed, the detective was suddenly shy. “Everything is still so fucked up in my head, I… are you sure that I can’t harm you?”

Laughing, Mycroft shook his head, “the surge of energy is levelling out, don’t worry. I am as a great risk to you as you are from me. So, the risk is null.” As Greg was still hesitant, he changed the subject with his usual tactic, “do you have any idea for today’s question, or are you no longer curious?”

Still feeling guilty and uneasy because of their discussion the evening before and today’s event, he hopped on the bed and placed himself close to Mycroft thinking about the silliest questions possible. “Hummmmm…. Let me think. I was hesitating between, are you more a boxer or a Y-front type of man  _ and _ do you still voluntarily eat Marmite?”

“Both questions are quite interesting,” Mycroft nodded seriously, “I heard that Marmite is an acquired taste but I am not that curious. As it became popular around 1910, I was already eating all the sweets and cakes that I wanted without concern for my health at that time. So, I left that… masterpiece of British strength, for others.”

“Pfff, you snob, you need salt to balance all that sweetness!” Greg giggled, feeling a bit better.

“And for the underpants…” he shifted a bit to murmured in the other man’s ear, “I hope that at some point in the near future you’re going to discover that... yourself.”

“Yes, okay… I… yes. I will. If it’s convenient for you.”  _ Oh. My. God! _ He theatrically threw himself on his side, face hidden in the crook of his arm.  _ How is it possible for a day to be the best and the worst of your life! _

“Gregory, it’s okay… that’s kind of sweet –“

“You flirted openly with me and I replied, ‘if it’s convenient!’ How could I be so stupid!”

“You were nervous, it’s all right… and don’t worry, it’s going to be  _ really convenient _ as soon as all the rest of this is settled.” With a bit more coaxing he brought Greg back to his side, peppering his head with little kisses without even realizing it. “And it’s also a good day for you, I answered two questions!”

“True, but,” Greg sniffed, “it was the shortest reply you ever gave me… I was expecting the history of undergarment starting with the Roman empire.” He sighed, “I guess I am now used to extraordinary developed stories with riveting suspense.”

“Yes, I cheated on you with those two… Really not nice, especially after your fright and exemplary attitude this morning. You deserved so much more, my dear.” He hugged Greg tight as if he was summoning the courage to talk, “this is why I’m going to reply as well to yesterday’s second question,” instinctively, he rolled his gold band, “about… about my wedding ring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! It was getting out of hand so it's going to be in the next chapter! That way, this chapter is mostly about Greg, the next one is going to be about Mycroft's past.
> 
> But you know now for sure that Mycroft was married! 
> 
> Stay safe everyone!


	13. Day 7, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Elizabeth...

“Oh,” Greg swallowed, “you… you have no obligation whatsoever to –“

“No, it’s good, I think it’s long overdue for me to open up about all… this.” He sighed and gently pulled Greg in his arms, suddenly needing the reassurance.  _ What’s happening to me, I used to be able to do anything by myself. _ “I don’t know where to start… First, yes, yes, it’s a wedding ring. Mine.”

“You were… you are –“

“I was, she died… before I turned.”  _ Luckily. _

“Oh Mycroft, I’m so sorry for you. You were obviously close if you kept your wedding ring all this time.”

“She was the most precious woman and I still love her very much, even if she’s now a faraway memory.”

“Is she the –“ He stopped right before saying something that he shouldn’t!  _ Mycroft doesn’t have to know that I snooped in his bedroom! _

Sniggering to diffuse the tension, Mycroft nodded, “yes, she’s the woman in the watercolour portrait that you saw when you sneaked in my bedroom, the only image I have left of her.”

“You know! You know that I went into your room!”

“Of course,” he protested, offended, “do you think I don’t know what’s going on in my own house. I heard when you doubted about removing the manacles, when Claire teased you, when you…” his gulp was clearly audible, “showered.” The sultry tone was a clear confirmation of what exactly Mycroft heard!

“Oh no,” Greg hid his head in both hands, “you must think that I am a hormonal teenager –“

Tenderly, he caressed Greg’s back and whispered, “I had to go outside to talk to Peter otherwise I would have joined you… especially after I heard you call my name.”

The policeman turned slightly to place a small kiss on the other man’s lips and sighed, “I would have loved that…”

They stayed like that for a moment, gazing directly into each other’s eyes. The unspoken feelings raw and available for the taking. As a ray of light caught the gold ring, Greg gently placed his hand on it before putting his head back on Mycroft’s shoulder. Waiting for the man to start his story, whenever he was ready.

An hour had passed when he finally found his voice. “She was the only daughter of our neighbours, at Musgrave Hall. A good family, decent people…” He thought about the picnics, the outing in the countryside, the number of times they were together. “Now I can see how everything was a set-up, no… set-up is a bit harsh, let say that our mothers were friends and they were thrilled when Elizabeth and I started to befriend each other.” He burrowed his nose into Greg’s hair and inhaled the sweet odour coming from him. “I loved her so dearly and, if I may be honest, women were quite intimidating. Their aspirations, their secrets, everything was awfully strange. But Elizabeth… Elizabeth was marvellously down to earth, simple, perfect in so many ways.” He smiled as he remembered her as a young girl, running in the field between their houses, all excited because her tutor just gave her a new book. “Maybe it’s simply because we met young, before all the games of seduction start? We enjoyed the same things while having separate interests as well… It was an easy friendship, she admired my academic prowess, I loved the details in her needlepoint and the enthusiasm when she talked about Dumas or Stendhal as well as her practical mind.” Holding Greg a bit closer, he murmured as he admired the effect of the sun going down on the white duvet, “we read so many books, one of us reading to the other…”

“This is such a beautiful memory,”  _ as you are reading to me now _ , “what happened when you went to university? You were away for the whole semester.”

“We wrote to each other, but it wasn’t the same… People, people started to say that it wasn’t possible for a young man and woman to be friends.” He waved his hand in exasperation, “what do they know?”

“It was another time…” Greg protested, gently.

“Yes, yes, I know. At some point, our mothers said that we should stop seeing each other or do something about it.”

“Okay, that’s a bit ridiculous.”

Still angry at the stupidity of victorian convention, even if he never regrets his time with Elizabeth, Mycroft explained, “they were right. People considered her as my unofficial fiancée, she even refused to meet potential suitors because she didn’t need a man in her life because she was intelligent enough to run her life and she had me anyway! She was going to remain an old maid if I stayed around. I was the silent rival.”

“So…”

“At that time, I was already aware that my younger brother’s attention… wasn’t toward women and I didn’t want my mother to pressure him into being something that he wasn’t so, I proposed to Elizabeth.”

“Oh… Mycroft.”

“No, no, don’t think it wasn’t my wish! It was wonderful. She was my best friend! I always had been unsure of my appearance, I was teased relentlessly because of my chubbiness when I was young, having her in my life was a miracle! Our parents were overjoyed…”

“But, you know,” the policeman asked with hesitation, “the… intimacy?”

“True, of course,  _ sex _ . Because without sex it wasn’t love, we weren’t a real couple.” The sudden coldness in Mycroft’s voice was terrible for Greg.

“No, don’t put words in my mouth…”  _ What’s going on? I am always saying the wrong thing! _ “I know that everyone is different, that tenderness is as important as sex, that everything isn’t black or white. Come on Mycroft! Look at me! I am in bed with you after being married to a woman for so many years!” He sighed, and tried again, “it’s not  _ the _ most important thing, but I presumed that a child was expected by your parents and -”

Closing his eyes, the vampire locked up and turned rigid, “I told you that the title went to someone else.”

Thinking about the picture of the baby in Mycroft’s room, a dreadful thought materialised in his mind. Kindly, he turned a bit more to embrace the man, “love, did something bad happen?”

Relaxing at the tender name, the politician inhaled and exhaled slowly before he started talking again, his voice barely audible. “A few months into the marriage, we started a more  _ intimate _ relationship, we were both well educated in the subject… We were curious and love each other so much, so it went surprisingly well. It was tender and loving, funny at times because of our clumsiness, solemn at others but without being too serious. It was…  _ us _ .” Letting go of his stress a little, he burrowed his delicate body into Lestrade’s well-built arms. “I was working for the government, from home or in my London office. I travelled a lot, feeling guilty of being often away. But otherwise, it was perfect! Everything was perfect… One day she announced that she was pregnant. Our families were so happy,  _ we _ were so happy even if a bit stunned by the idea of having a small human being to take care of.”

“I’m sure that you were up to the task, look how patient you are with Sherlock!”

“You’re wrong. I was so happy with my perfect life that I let my brother slip from my mind.” Nervously, he played with Greg’s shirt buttons. “He was still in university at that time. Getting in a bad crowd without my knowledge. He never visited us. He was probably happy for me but… marital bliss was boring for him.” He shook his head at the image of his brother the day of their wedding and sniggered at the idea that his brother was now deeply in love. “Thankfully John is a strong man!” He sobered up quickly, thinking about the event that brought his wife death. With a small voice foreign to Greg, he continued, “she wasn’t due for 2 weeks, if the physician and our calculations were valid, when labour started. I was in London, of course, but came back as soon as I received the message from home. It was horrible, the amount of blood… The medicine, it, it wasn’t like today… She passed away after a day… a terrible day where she shifted between consciousness and delirium. I stayed by her side, to the amazement of everyone – it wasn’t done to show emotions to your own wife you see – and she worried, she worried so much for me, the poor darling until her last breath. She didn’t want me to be alone. She asked me to find someone, to befriend Sherlock… She must be so disappointed by me. Sometimes I think that she’s watching me, sad at what I become.”

“You had a rough patch,” he wasn’t an idiot! When Mycroft said that he felt guilty for Sherlock turning a vampire because he was all over heels in his job, it was clearly after the death of his wife! “Look at you now! You have Anthea, Sherlock and John, Peter and Carol, your staff is completely devoted to you, you have me also… you are not alone.”

“Yes, I know, sorry… this is not a happy story and it has made me quite melancholic.” After a moment where his hand rested on Greg’s heart, he whispered, “the baby survived, a little girl as beautiful as her mother, she was baptized Elizabeth as well… but despite the best doctors and a good wet nurse, she followed her mother in the grave a few months later. You saw her picture in my bedroom... I didn’t want to, she was so fragile for the flash and the commotion, but my mother wanted a memory and it is, of course, better than one of those death portraits that had been common then. I regret that I wasn’t in the mindset to paint her...” He didn’t touch his brushes for years, slowly spiralling in a depression, completely buried in his responsibilities and blind to anything else around him. “I lost everything in the span of a few months. My little angel was buried near my beloved friend.” He removed his ring to show the inscription to the man at his side.

“ _ L’amitié est une étoile, ta tendre amie Elizabeth _ , sorry my French is atrocious. It is something  _ Friendship is like a star? _ ”

“Yes, from Dumas, in La Reine Margot. The complete quote is  _ Friendship is a star when love is nothing but a candle… _ ” he brushed his fingers on the letters, thinking about the similar inscription in Elizabeth’s ring. “She will remain the most precious friend above all. The time I spent with her in my youth was the happiest I have ever been.”

Giving the prized ring back with a small kiss on Mycroft closed hand, Greg suggested, “do you have  _ our _ book near? Let me read to you, I’m sure that she’s going to be happy, wherever she is, to know that you are spoiled.

Smiling sadly, Mycroft no dded, “yes, she loved when she was the one reading to me… she used to say that my brain needs a break at times.” Reverently, he gave the book to Greg and placed himself comfortably, feeling somewhat hopeful now that he talked openly about his tenderness for Elizabeth.

Opening the book at the place they stopped, Greg cleared his voice and started, “Chapter 12,  _ Under the tent _ . Stones have their destinies. A wall lasts long and sees many generations pass away. How many histories they might disclose! How many dramas, tragedies and comedies in real life have been acted between them…”

They stayed together for hours, reading slowly until nightfall. Neither of them mention the fact that, without thinking, Mycroft put the ring back on in the wrong hand…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was already written in the first part of this series (When Sherlock talked to John about his brother): 
> 
> "He was married to a lovely woman, really gentle and delicate. Sadly, she died in childbirth… It was really distressing at that time. Now it is like an echo of someone else’s life, isn’t it weird?” He closed his eyes, thinking about the delicate lady that his brother loved so much, first by obligation then for real. “My brother wasn’t the same after… He started to work all the time, not for recognition – his role was always a bit out of the public eye – and never remarried. "
> 
> But now you've got the whole story.... Poor darling Mycroft :-( But Greg is there now! I'm sure that Elizabeth is going to approve!


	14. Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two hearts beating as one. Beware of the incoming fluff bounty!

Mycroft was lost in his thoughts when Greg startled him by yawning noisily. “Have you slept at all?” the man asked in a still sleepy voice.

Keeping to himself that he far preferred watching him sleep instead, the younger man replied, “no, don’t really need to.”

“I don’t understand, why I am still so tired! I’ve seen Sherlock go on for days and days without a wink.”

Languorously stroking the grey strands, he chuckled lovingly, “you’re still a youngster despite your gorgeous silver hair, give it a few days.”

“Humph, I am not a child…” Greg mumbled as he spread his body tightly against him, showing his point.  _ And certainly not his child! Who am I? His friend? His partner? His bed buddy? We need to clarify things at some point. One thing is sure, I want more. _ He sighed, “I think you put a spell on me?”

“Don’t be silly, it’s Sherlock’s speciality.”

Turning his head, he looked into Mycroft’s eyes, “what?”

“Most of us have a little advantage, a small  _ je ne sais quoi _ . I am not blind, I know that I’m not able to mesmerize people like my brother…” He remained silent a moment, thinking of a way to explain the idea and anticipating the follow-up question, “It’s more as if being a vampire enhances some of your personal traits. It’s probably more the fact that people are more aware, are more cautious around you, you know?”

“So, Sherlock…”

“Always been an incorrigible flirt when he needs something. Being a vampire, shimmering eyes and all, only bumped it up a notch.” He shook his head, thinking about the poor suspects or victims. 

“Molly called it his ‘parlour trick’, thank God she learned how to resist!” Playing with Mycroft’s collar, he asked, “and you… what is your peculiarity? I think that, even if you say no, that you are also quite effective in seduction.”

Snickering at the idea that someone could find him seductive, the government man raised his shoulders, “don’t know really.” He frowned, not used to introspection, “maybe some sort of authoritative attitude? People have always been a bit afraid of me, afraid of causing me deception… even before. But it’s sometimes ridiculous now, are they afraid that I’m going to kill them if I’m not happy? I’ve seen secretaries hiding from me and heard of many MP or even PM having anxiety attacks in the bathroom before or after a meeting with me… it’s ridiculous.” 

He looked so adorably puzzled by the reaction of others that Greg pressed his lips on the other man's mouth with a big ‘smack’! “You see, I am not afraid of you, never have been.”

“But,” slowly he captured the policeman’s lips for a longer kiss, “you are an exception.”

“If that theory of yours is right, what’s Anthea super-power?”

A spontaneous smile popped on Mycroft’s face, “it’s obvious! She’s got an eye for the details, for the organization, for the missing link… She must have been a librarian in another life.”

“And… me?” 

“You?” Stepping back a bit, he looked into Gregory’s eyes as a smile a shy short from adoringly, appeared on his face, “hummm…. I think it’s your aptness.”

“Wow! Nice,” the man protested, a bit insulted. “Sherlock is a master of seduction, Anthea is remarkably efficient and the best PA in the world, you are terrifying to the most puissant people on the planet and me I am… adequate! Stop the flattery, I am already in your bed!” he spat out as he moved to get out of Mycroft’s arms.  _ Jeez, to think that I was starting to feel better about myself, about all this! That I was envisaging asking him out officially.  _

“No, no,” extending a hand he grabbed his forearm, “stay with me. You don’t understand!” He waited until the disgruntled Greg was back at his side. “When I said aptness, I mean that you are good at your profession and –“

“Even better! I am able to do my job! Great.” He knew he was a bit overreacting, but the constant feeling of not being enough for such a grand man was overwhelming. “Am I going to receive a certificate in the mail?”

“Don’t you ever think about what your job is?” As Greg sulked silently, he reasoned, “you help people who are in distress, parents who lost their child to a kidnapper, the wife who needs the closure of her husband’s death, companies that are going to lose their reputations if a crime is not solved. Being competent at all that is already a super-power as you said!” He hugged a rapidly mollified detective, “and now that you are in the v-community, you are going to be able to help even further! Your core qualities of brightness, good judgement, leadership are only going to shine more!”

Humbly, Greg mumbled, “without your brother, I wouldn’t –“

“Nobody was able to work with him at the Met, the last person who gave him a chance to work on cases with the police died forty years ago!” He engulfed his lover’s face in his hands, “you saved him from himself, he was going down a rough path…”

“He wasn’t a bad man, he just needed a bit of guidance… to know that someone believed in him, trusted him.”

“I know,” pushing Greg on the pillow, he murmured in his ear, “my beautiful vampire whisperer…”

They spent some delicious hours alone until hunger (real hunger for one blood and gourmandise for the other) sadly pushed them out of the bedroom. “Relax, dear, choose some music… I’m going to take care of everything.”

“You,” Greg chuckled teasingly, “in a kitchen?”

“I’ll have you know that I am perfectly capable of boiling water and opening a jar of something, which is quite marvellous if you consider that I haven’t needed food in over a century and that I used to have a cook before that.” Mycroft replied haughtily as he walked to the kitchen seriously hoping that Carol left something nice for them.  _ Oh Perfect, she left something light the Gregory should be able to keep without problem! Fresh scones and homemade strawberry compote!  _

Noël Gallagher's last album was playing softly when the politician appeared in the main room with a tray full of food and a teapot. “Here you go, I don’t want you to faint… let me pour you a cup.”

“It looks delicious, My’, thank you… I am ravenous.” He sighed with contentment after a cautious bite of a scone topped with strawberries. “That’s delicious, I'm going to drink as well do not worry..”

“I am not, just don't rush yourself..." He smiled, looking tenderly at the man. "Lovely choice of music, I really love Noël’s solo albums.”

“Yes, easy to see who’s the genius of the band was,” putting down his small plate, he smelled the exquisite scent of the tea. “Perfect.”

“Don’t be so hard on Liam, the conversion isn’t easy on everybody.” He playfully placed a finger on his lips at Greg silent,  _ what _ ? “Let’s just say that not everyone is as well disposed as you, my dear.”

“A compliment? Are you still digging yourself out of your ‘aptness’ comment?” The policeman teased before asking seriously, “it’s not easy, that’s true… Why did you decide to take care of me?”

Placing his hands on each side of Greg’s he pushed him on the edge of the table, resolutely placing himself between his legs, “is it an official question, Sir?”

“Yes, I am really curious.” Cocking his head playfully, he smiled, “or you can choose to tell me if Justin Trudeau is a vampire and how he is in private because, well, I don’t know about Canadian politics but he’s quite a beautiful man. What’s his special power?”

A bit jealous, Mycroft muttered as he sunk even more into Greg, “his bloody perfect hair I think, the man is worse than Sherlock, really. I choose to not talk about him... So, why am I here with you now? That’s today’s question?”

Panting at the slow friction the perfectly wonderful (but treacherous) man was creating relentlessly with his body, Greg murmured in a raspy voice, “yes, please, I need to know.”

“Besides Sherlock's obvious distress, I, I just… I just needed to be there for you. The thought of letting you deal with this in a cold hospital, restrained far more than what we’ve done… All alone, without a friend. It was horrendous to me.” Reverently, he placed his lips on Greg’s, before avoiding his gaze. Afraid of saying too much. “I always felt a… a connection with you. It’s silly, I know.”

The policemen hugged him back forcibly. “It isn’t silly! Because I felt the same from the first time, I saw you… But you, I never thought in a million years that -”

Unable to stop now that he was finally opening, Mycroft talked over Greg, “first it was the appreciation for your probity and your work with Sherlock… then I realized that you were really not harbouring any prejudice against our kind. It was refreshing! Having you on the periphery of my life was… was quickly becoming everything.” Without thinking, he nudged his nose into Greg’s neck and inhaled. “Egotistically I can say that I always wanted to be your friend, or… or more, but I didn’t know how… didn’t know if…”

Softly, the older man asked, “have you ever had any… thoughts about men? You were married, as I was, but –“

“You,” he murmured in Greg’s ear, “I loved only you since Elizabeth. I don’t want to sound weirder than I already am… I had encounters with either a man or a woman once every other year – when loneliness becomes unbearable the gender is irrelevant – but it was clinical, it wasn’t –“

As Mycroft stumbled on the last word, the policeman completed, “love.” 

“I am ridiculous, I am nearly 150 years old and I can’t… I can’t… Most vampires have adventures over adventures; are married to another vampire or a human; are devastated when a human friend or lover died. They feel! They love! And me, me, I’m just -”

“My’, sweet, sweet man, don’t be so hard on yourself. For some of us, falling in love or the simple desire of someone isn’t part of their DNA and it can be… difficult. You married Elizabeth but you were friends first for years, you knew each other well.” He kissed Mycroft temple, “we have known each other for nearly a decade, your heart had all the time in the world to open to the idea of something more.” He always suspected Sherlock to be on a scale going towards ace, but wasn't aware of Mycroft's personal life until recently…  _ With a wedding ring and all _ … _ the message was confusing. _ “It’s okay, don’t worry. I don’t mind the absence of many others; I am just delighted that you choose me and for the rest, we’ll go as quick or as slow as you want.”

Letting go of their fears wasn’t easy for either of them. The fear of being rejected, of opening your heart only to get it smashed, the fear of not being enough… 

Without realizing it, they started to inhale at the same rhythm, the presence of the other soothing despite the growing sexual tension. Chuckling as they started to talk together, they stopped, kissed softly and finally murmured at the same time.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwwwww... Cute baby vampires. Let me know if you are still there or if you died under the amount of fluffiness :-)


	15. Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of action, a question, and a bit of action.

Mycroft was the first to speak as the three little words still resonated between them. “Gregory, I –“

“I won’t let you cheapen what we just said,” the policeman interrupted, not wanting his own resolution to flutter. “I will say it again, I love you Mycroft Holmes. Probably have been for years. Like it or not.”

With a delicate smile, the red-haired vampire kissed him tenderly, “I was going to say that even if it seems somewhat precipitated, my feelings are honest and come from years of longing. I love you, my dear Gregory.”

Taken aback positively, he really thought that it was going to turn into a battle of wits full of metaphors and deny, Greg pulled his darling closer and murmured in his ear, “want to go back somewhere more private now that we have regained our strength and that we are clearly of similar dispositions?”

“We need to talk –“ The older vampire protested without conviction before being smothered by Greg’s.

“Later…”

Knowing that he was right, what more can be said at the moment, Holmes took his phone and sent a quick text to Peter and Carol to asked them to stay out of the cottage until further instruction. “We have the cottage to ourselves… They are going to Glasgow for a few errands.” As a slow tune started on the Hi-FI, he extended his hand, “will you do me the honour to dance with me, Gregory?”

Slowly, they walked to the small living room, stealing kisses, lightly touching as if they didn’t want to go too quickly even if their body urged them to. Sliding his hand down Greg’s arm until he was able to entwine their fingers, Mycroft started to sway to the rhythm, waiting for the man he hopes is going to be his lover to follow his lead. Both relished in the intimacy of the position as their bodies undulated together.

As a caressing hand migrated from Mycroft’s back to his chest, Greg sighed, “may I remove your vest? You are far too covered for my taste.” Dilated pupils and a small sharp breath was the only assent he needed. Without asking further, Greg slowly released the five buttons of the vest that the man was still wearing over his shirt despite the relaxed setting.

It was somewhat indecent for the honourable Mister Holmes to be divested in the middle of his living room, in broad daylight. He was underdressed compared to his usual attire of three-piece monochromatic suit but, notwithstanding the casualness of the cottage, he usually kept a waistcoat on. A barrier, an armour of some sort. A remnant of his 19th-century upbringing perhaps. The fact that he accepted, even more that he truly enjoyed Greg’s attention, was a sign if he was searching for one that he was indeed unique to those that had come before him.

“My’, you are thinking far too much again,” Lestrade chuckled as he temporarily dropped Mycroft’s leading hand to remove the vest. “Better, isn’t it?”

Pressing himself against Gregory’s pliant body, the vampire closed his eyes to savour the sensation. The thickness of two cotton shirts was unable to confine the feeling of tight muscles under a pleasant but nearly there softness.  _ Far superior indeed.  _ The warm coming from the man was a surprise, vampires weren’t cold as their detractors often claimed, it was more a constant freshness, but it usually took a week or so for the new vampire to adapt. _ How long will the residual warmth last… Only a few more days probably. It’s special, only for me to enjoy. _

“Love,” the sweet name brought him back, “I dream of that… you have no idea. All those meetings, in your office, at Scotland Yard, even in the abandoned warehouse. Each time I thought about how you would react if I took your umbrella away and started to remove your jacket, your vest, then your shirt, followed by your posh shoes, your probably 100 pounds a pair silk socks…” Each elucidation was punctuated by a kiss, a caress, a hand playing with his shirt buttons. In a low murmur, he asked gently, “would you have let me?”

_ Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes! I wouldn’t have been able to resist you… Not when you are constantly looking so delectable, so confident, so damn sexy.  _ He realized in confusion that Gregory was looking at him with uncertainty in his beautiful brown eyes _. Oh! _ “Sorry, I was… I… yes, yes… I would have let you.” After a pause where the doubt was replaced by a playful grin, he murmured, “it’s not too late if you are still in the same disposition.”

Laughing into the crook of Mycroft’s neck, Greg pushed his fingers under his waistband to get the tail of his shirt out, barely caressing his bum with the tips of his fingers as he removed his hands. Keeping his hands on the newly available skin, he caressed under the perfectly pressed shirt while continuously pulling out the rest of it. The colder skin was soft as silk, the aroma that came out of the movement of the fabric was quickly becoming addictive. “You are a marvel, you smell so, so good...”  _ He’s mine, fuck, can’t believe it!  _ Without thinking, he swiftly unbuttoned the shirt, silently swearing because of the small mother-of-pearl disks. 

First stunned at the wave of emotions that submerged him, Mycroft timidly then with more delight started to do the same in return. Relishing the fine coarse hair on his pectorals, the intimacy of his actions. The fact that the wounds he sustained in the attack had now almost disappeared.  _ He is mine, how is it possible! Nobody is ever going to harm you again! Never!  _ He was possessively inhaling his personal odour still discernible behind the shampoo and the soap fragrance that was fading away since his last shower was now a day earlier. His desire pooled in his guts as the echoes of what Gregory had done while in the shower.  _ Oh my God, he masturbated, he masturbated and came while moaning my name!  _

“Oh… My’, I need you so much, since that dreadful day when I nearly bit Carol the only thing I can think about is the way you straddled me to control my movements.” He swayed his hips just so, aligning their now really obvious erections and muttered, “I am a bad man I know…”

“No, you’re not,” the government man argued, knowing that he was lost he admitted, “I was just thinking how I listened to you when you were in the shower…”

Laughing lewdly, Greg motioned them in the direction of a comfortable chair near a window, turning at the last moment to be the one that was sitting while Mycroft spread his legs and placed himself on top of him.  _ If it took becoming a vampire to stay with him for eternity, it was worth it.  _ The sun entering the room suddenly turned his lover’s short hair a vibrant copper. “Oh God, you’re glorious like that… you look like a painting.”

Combing his fingers through the detective’s grey locks, he went down for another kiss, “you are not bad yourself, your tan and your silver hair… the mix is potent!” Undulating, he sighed beatifically at the thought that Gregory turned as his skin tone was golden and not in the middle of winter. _Thank God for that!_ “You know,” he continued without skipping a beat but with a voice clearly affected by their activities,., “most of us are quite pale because being sun-kissed wasn’t in fashion for so long among a certain class and… a lot of people were… were deficient in minerals and vitamins without even –“

Lestrade, not up for a history class, avidly captured his lips, lifting his bum to join Mycroft. The older vampire thankfully understood the message and the room from now on resonated only of passionate pleas, moans and uncontrollable fits of joyful giggles. 

Later, after they finally fell entwined on a nearby comfortable sofa, Greg hummed expectantly.

“What?”

Lifting his head that was resting on the taller man’s lean chest, he teased, “you are still short of a question, Mister Holmes, do not think you are going to get a free card because you are excellent at snogging.”

“Oh detective inspector, you have seen everything behind my devious plan! Selling my virtue to avoid your interrogation…”

“I know, I’m an excellent detective,” Greg deadpanned, enchanted by their easy chatter. “So, I’m going to be easy on you. Two questions, you choose what you want to answer.”

“Truly generous of you,” Mycroft said, masking his worry behind a bright smile. “Go ahead, I am all yours.”

“You are indeed,” Greg growled as he left a light bite mark on his lover's shoulder. “First option, what do you think of John and Sherlock relationship? Do you think John should change? And, the second option, if you were able would you want to go back to being a mere mortal?”

“Oh… interesting questions… both are in fact linked to the idea of immortality. Do I think that John should become one of us or do I wish to not be a vampire?”

“True, sorry.” 

“You don’t look remorseful at all, don’t even try!” Mycroft replied, biting him playfully. “Let's say that John’s decision, and if Sherlock actually wants to or not to propose to him is their business and I won’t discuss it. You realized that such a decision is the equivalent of asking someone their hand, for eternity.”

“I understand, but I will probably have a discussion with both of them at some point if you don’t mind.”

“Your prerogative, and you are going to be able to speak to both sides of the story,” he was secretly happy with Gregory’s initiative as he was personally pro-turning John and did not fully understand Sherlock’s hesitation. “Regarding your other question… let’s say that my opinion on the matter has changed drastically over the last few days.”

Faking (horribly) an innocent expression, Greg exclaimed, “oh, any reason I know?”

“You are the worst… truly, I don’t understand how it is possible for me to love you so much,” he shook his head, mocking despair and incomprehension. “Even if it’s more complicated than that. Let us say that I am now enamoured with a slightly manipulative vampire that I will horribly miss if he fell in love with another gentleman because I am old and decrepit while he remains as beautiful as he is today. That is if I was to remain in this century.” Not acknowledging Gregory’s protestation of eternal love even if he was horribly old he added, “and if to become a human again I have to go back in 1895, aware that our paths would never cross, that I was back to being all alone and –“ He stopped talking, the idea of going back to how horrible his life was at the time now unimaginable.

“Love, don’t think about that, I’m truly sorry… my question was silly and –“

The idea of losing him suddenly unbearable, Mycroft pressed his lips on Greg’s for a passionate kiss before ending it abruptly. “Gregory, do you hear an unusual thunder?”

He chuckled, “you are a good kisser, My’, but I don’t think that you cause my heart to –“ He stopped, paying attention as he heard something, “you’re right!”

Pushing Lestrade off of him, Mycroft walked quickly to the window to scrutinized the sky with a worried look on his face. “It’s a helicopter, I am betting my life on it!”

“Your life, as you’re an immortal it’s quite a serious bet…” As the politician ran to get his phone that he left on the kitchen island, the detective grabbed his hand to stop him. “Mycroft, what’s wrong?”

Extending his arm, he looked at his phone and checked for messages. Guilt fell on him as he saw all the texts and the failed attempts to join him in the last two hours.  _ 10 messages, what’s going on.  _ Reading quickly, he turned to stone.  _ That’s not good, really not good. _ “Gregory, we need to go. Help me.” Rushing to the table, he started to pile all his documents, closing his laptop and other communication devices before shovelling everything into a security box. Without a word, Greg followed his lead, quickly checking for anything of importance that may have been left behind. Under two minutes, everything of import was gathered.

On the spur of the moment, he ran to the first floor to get their book as well as Elizabeth and the baby portraits and reverently put them down in the box before realizing that Mycroft’s eyes were fixed on him. Suddenly shy because of the intimate implication of the move he had just made, he turned away and closed the safe when he sensed a small pressure as a small kiss touched the back of his head.

“Thank you,” the voice was but a murmured, “you are the best of men.”

“What’s going on, love, tell me,” but it was too late for any discussion, a small chopper was landing near the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Something is really wrong, but they are so sweet together!


	16. Day 9 (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Times in Scotland come to an end when reality catches u with Mycroft and Greg.

As they rushed outside, the Land Rover stopped in front of the cottage in a cloud of dust. Peter urgently stepped out motioning to his wife to stay inside, “Mister Holmes! Are you all right? Miss Anthea called me as you weren’t responding to your phone and I drove as fast as I could for –“ He turned as he heard the sound of the slowing helicopter rotors that landed only a hundred meters away. Holding a small gun, he stepped in front of Mycroft and Greg protectively until the PA small frame walked out of the “ _ Flying Heresy _ ” as she names it. “Oh, good, it’s Miss Anthea!”

Holmes gently pushed the bulky man aside,  _ how charming for him to want to protect a - no, two - vampires _ , and catch-up with her. “My dear, what’s going on… you said nothing except that we need to evacuate! My brother, is he -”

“Sherlock and John are okay, it’s Frederic!”

Stretching his tall frame, he inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to restrain his impatience. “What has he done  _ the time _ , as if being played by Moriarty wasn’t enough!”

“He’s been assassinated and rumour has it that –“ she swallowed with difficulty, “that it was ordered by you, sir.”

“Me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lestrade stepped near his lover defensively.  _ Oh God, this is not going to end well. _

“Greg! Get our things please, we are going back to London.” Falling back quickly into his role, he guided a reluctant Anthea back to the helicopter. “Now, you have to tell us everything that happened!”

_ I am in a bloody helicopter.  _ It wasn’t his first time of course, the Met sometimes needed to get to a remote crime scene quickly, but it was nothing like the luxury of Mycroft’s! He tried to focus on the discussion between Anthea and her boss, but his headset was turned off, so he couldn’t understand anything over the sound of the motors.  _ Anyway, who am I to deal with a crisis like this, I am only a copper. I am no politician or diplomat or spy extraordinaire. I’m only me…  _ He watched the man he loves in his element. It was breathtaking! He was focussed, clearly asking questions and expecting the correct response from his assistant. He couldn’t hear what he said, but his attitude, his eyes, the movement of his hands, of his mouth… Everything was expressing controlled fury and conniving intelligence.  _ The perk of falling in love with a genius.  _ Unable to stop them, his doubts came back with force at the idea that the time in the small cottage was an exception, that in real life they can’t be equal. That he can’t be near him now, that he must be relegated to second place if any.  _ Who am I kidding, they have everything under control, they don’t need me. _

Pushing his gaze away with difficulty, he watched with sadness as the Scottish landscape unfolded below them, he was already missing the cottage and the week where he gave his heart to Mycroft Holmes.  __

He was still lost in his thoughts when a hand brushed his shoulder softly. Turning in his seat, he saw concern in Mycroft’s eyes as he said words that Greg couldn’t understand even with the proximity because of the cancelling noise headset. He mouthed slowly with exasperation, “I can’t hear you.”

Perplexed, Holmes quickly checked the control panel and realized that the detective’s set wasn’t on. Temporary blocking Anthea, he smiled, “here you go darling man, so sorry I didn’t realize that you switched off. Were you tired? Are you okay?” Kissing the beautiful lips lightly he sat back as Gregory remained stoic. “What’s wrong? Don’t worry, we are going to be able to solve this… our plan is -” Suddenly, he doubted, “you know… you know that I am not the one who sent a killer after Frederic, right?”  _ Even if he clearly deserved it. _

“I know it’s not you and,” the policeman replied with an even tone, “anyway, I don’t think I am going to cry for the bastard.”

“So, what’s wrong…”, he placed a hand on Greg’s cheek to still him as the man turned his head to avoid his gaze and murmured in his microphone, “we are good, no? What is troubling you, talk to me.”

“It’s just that, I am feeling so unhelpful, you are here talking and making plans and I am just sitting here – “

“No, no, on the contrary! I need you on this Gregory! Your knowledge of the Met’s bureaucracy and movements of the criminal classes are essential! Do not forget that not only do we have to deal with rebellious vampires, but we are also dealing with a criminal mastermind who is being actively searched for.” Thinking back to the fact that the headset wasn’t functional a minute ago, he asked with bewilderment, “don’t tell me that you didn’t hear anything since we embarked? Your part is of the greatest importance!” The number of times he asked him what he thought about this or that, or if he was on board with a part of the plan… “I was stupidly under the impression that you were okay with all of this… that’s why you weren’t responding… Too focussed to realize that something was obviously wrong!” He kissed him briefly, an eye on Anthea who was gracefully looking outside, “I can explain everything again, I really want your input… especially on how to handle my brother and John.” He smiled but worry remained in his voice, “you know them better than I do.”

Feeling a bit better, Lestrade chided his lover, “Don’t say that, you are his brother, you have known him for over a century!”

“Time is not the essence in friendship or in love.” He paused before adding with a small smile, “or when friendship becomes love…”

“Mycroft Holmes, you are romantic. You can’t deny it.” He kissed him back, but with more force.

“Okay, but don’t tell anybody or I will have to send you to Siberia,” the powerful man deadpanned, “and as I don’t really like snow, I will hate to have to follow you there!”

They chuckled; the doubt pushed away for the moment. Mycroft opened Anthea’s line and asked her to join them for an overview of the plan and Gregory’s input.

They landed on Musgrave land thirty minutes later. The manor was magnificent, shining in the sun as if nothing was amiss.  _ Oh my God _ , Lestrade thought,  _ they are actually rich _ . He knew that they were, Mycroft’s taste for only the best and Sherlock’s never-ending collection of bespoke suits were proof if needed that they didn’t want anything, but an actual well-kept manor in the middle of a gigantic plot of land placed them in a gentrified company. Once more the weight of the changes in his life nearly overcame him.  _ I’m an only child from Croydon. Shit _ . Hating himself for feeling inferior, he suddenly felt his lover’s hand in his, pressing reassuringly as he mouthed silently,  _ I love you for yourself as I hope you do for me.  _ The idea that the younger man with a much older soul has the same doubts, the same wonder when thinking of their new life, comforted him more than any great declaration. Keeping the manicured fingers close to his chest he turned to admire the garden as the helicopter landed.

Sherlock and John were already outside, a few men from Mycroft’s personal guard near them. Barely waiting for him to get out, the consultant detective started to protest as his curls flew all over the place with the wind of the rotors.

“Sending guards here as if I was a CHILD! We are able to protect ourselves!”

“I know, brother mine, I know.” Not acknowledging his sibling further, he shook hands with the head of his security. “Simpson, everything under control here?”

“Yes Sir,” he winked in Sherlock’s direction, “except for a bit of disturbance everything is clear.”

“Oy, respect!” the detective shouts as everyone – John included – laughed. He suddenly becomes immobile as his eyes fell on Lestrade who was helping Anthea out of the helicopter. He walked in his direction, stopping a few paces away from the man. Looking at him with intensity, trying to find a trace of the attack, evidence of his new nature.  _ He looks well, how is it possible for him to look well, rested and… glowingly satisfied.  _ Taken aback as light enhanced Lestrade’s shimmering eyes, he opened his mouth to say something but failed to utter a word.

“Sherlock, we are going inside to discuss our strategy, let poor  _ Gregory _ alone.” Mycroft interrupted before his brother came to his senses wincing as he realized what he just said.

“What is it to you if I talk to –“ Suddenly his eyes went from Lestrade to his brother.  _ It can’t be! _ “No, no, no… it was funny as long as it was a joke!”

“What are you talking about?” John, nonplussed, looked at him in confusion before he remembered a few discussions with the DI. The kind of discussion you have late at night after too many pints. “Ooooooh! Good for you mate!” Looking adoringly at Sherlock, he grinned, “but be careful, they are a handful.”

“God, I know,” Greg chuckled as he watched Sherlock and his possible new boyfriend walking to the home while arguing, his love already obvious.

“Once this shit is over, we need to have a serious discussion Greg… I am going to need details!”

“He’s a wonderful kisser,” the DI teased as John gagged theatrically. “You are the same, unbelievable! Sherlock would be so proud!” John laughed and followed the men to the house as Greg teased, “and you, Doctor Watson, are you ready to live eternally with your own precious genius vampire?”

The shorter man stopped and murmured, “I seriously think I am Greg. I am so fucking afraid.”

“It wasn’t that bad, only ten days for the complete process… If Sherlock or Mycroft is with you, you are going to be just fine and – “

“No, it’s Sherlock… he doesn’t want to talk about it. I think that…” he suddenly looked so lost that Greg nearly pulled him in a hug, “maybe he doesn't love me in the same way.”

“Don’t say that… He’s so in love with you that he is probably afraid that something wrong might happen, that’s all.”

“True that his own story is horrible, he’s probably still traumatised by the experience…” He stopped, fairly sure that Greg wasn’t aware of the whole story.

“Don’t really know, Mycroft told me about his experience and how he changed after Sherlock, but he didn’t give me any details about his brother’s story.” He shrugged his shoulders, “it’s okay, you know, it’s personal.”

“True. I don’t really know what happened to Mycroft… don’t think that Sherlock really knows all the details either.”

“But I will talk to him if you want, discreetly… as things turned okay for me maybe he’s going to be more receptive to the whole idea.”

“Thank you Greg, so happy for you that everything turned out  _ more than _ okay,” the doctor replied, wiggling his brows.

“Stop it! Come on, or we are going to miss the planning and we’re going to get tea and sandwiches duty instead of getting any action tomorrow!” 

Without another word, they rushed to the house.

An hour later, they were all sitting in the library, studying sketches of Frederic’s lair and its surroundings laid on the coffee table as well as a few empty teacups.

Mycroft extended his arm to get a fresh cup, serving anyone who needed more. “So, everyone is on board?”

“Yes Sir,” Simpson confirmed, “and I will have a team of fifteen of our best men with us.”

“Great, thank you.”

Lestrade chuckled silently at the idea that a man who is officially a glorified pencil-pusher had a team of “men”. Thinking about his own role, keeping an eye on the action of anyone in Frederic’s  _ court _ who decided to hide in London as well as being an official police representative on site, he was relieved that he was going to be able to check up on his lover’s security.  _ To think that the first day of my new life is starting with this crisis! If I can pull this off, anything is going to be possible.  _ He was hoping to be able to lead his team without creating any suspicion as he wanted to get a few more weeks of getting used to this ‘vampire’ thing before his officers realize. The room remained silent for a few seconds, then Sherlock spoke.

“The plan is satisfactory; I will explore all the data in Frederic’s rooms to help to incriminate Moriarty and give us leverage against him.” He paused, avoiding his boyfriend’s eyes before stating assertively, “but John is staying here with an escort.”

“SHERLOCK!” The doctor bellowed, “may I remind you that I used to be a soldier! I am not a blushing maiden that needs protection!”

Quickly catching his hands, the detective murmured, “but it wasn’t the same thing. In the army it was mostly human, not vampires... you weren’t alone in your position.” Thinking about the way Moriarty kidnapped John so easily a few months ago, he added, “you weren’t an obvious target.” He pressed his forehead to John’s, “we are going to poke a hornets’ nest, I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“This is why I want to be there; I want to watch your back!” He was slowly panicking at the idea of Sherlock alone with them. “They attacked Greg! Moriarty killed vampires for fun!”

“I know, that is precisely why I don’t want you there!” Sherlock turned toward his brother, “Mycroft! Say something!”

“I think having a doctor with us is always a good thing.” The older Holmes replied calmly even if his brother’s lack of restraint was troubling him deeply, “who knows how many humans may be kept there as pets or as… you know.”  _ Food. _

“And you know that I learned everything about ‘vampire’ medicine! If you are hurt, or any of you, I will be able to assist.”

“Lestrade,” Sherlock tried his last resort, “you know how mad they are! You can’t approve!”

“Of course I prefer for him to be safe –“

“Ah!” the brunet interrupted triumphantly, “you see John!”

“-  _ but _ I sincerely think that the safest place for him is with you.”

Unable to protest and realizing that the whole room was against him, Sherlock jumped out of his seat and walked out of the room without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been too long I know! Work is crazy nowadays, sorry :-(
> 
> And yes, only one chapter to go!


	17. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has to end now. And it will. Regally.

It was 5 o’clock in the morning when they left the house, a disgruntled Sherlock and a satisfied but worried John in tow. Last night’s argument about John’s presence still fresh. They separated into two vans and were expecting to reach the Met tactical team as well as the rest of Mycroft’s men in the vicinity of Frederic’s manor around 7AM. It was the best hour if they wished to storm on the coven with little resistance as vampires still holding to the old ways often preferred to stay put when the sun rose. Even with all their preparations, they didn’t know what was going to happen or exactly how Frederic had passed away as no information had leaked from his followers since his demise. However, they had found proof that Moriarty was behind the recrudescence of the anti-v manifestations. It was further evidence that the criminal intended to warp the general public’s perception of the vampires. It was a concern as it exacerbated the tension between the two groups as well as between vampires.

For many of Mycroft’s people, the idea of fighting against their own was unimaginable. But the death of Frederic was a unique chance to break down the dangerous community and imprison the worst of them.  _ Especially if the idiots think that I paid for his assassination,  _ Mycroft thought _ , that farce went for long enough, and it is time for it to end!  _ The atmosphere was heavy, especially in the first car where the Holmes’ brothers were, each of them aware of the physical and political risk of their enterprise. The plan was clear, no additional words were necessary, and everyone remained silent and lost in their thoughts. Until a light buzz resonated.

And another.

And another.

“Brother mine, is this your phone?” Mycroft asked, irritated. “Please do something about it.”

Grumbling as he knew who it was but does not want to either acknowledge it or mute his phone completely, Sherlock tried not to think about – bzzz – the messages – bzzz – that were piling up – bzzz – on his phone.

“You know that it’s Doctor Watson, shouldn’t you –“

“Not your business!”

And another.

And another.

Suddenly unable to stay quiet, Mycroft’s head of security objected. “Mister Holmes, sorry, but this is unnecessarily stressful so early in the morning.”

“Francis is right, Sherlock –“

“OKAY!” Quickly he silenced his phone for good, trying not to think about John’s many attempts to talk to him since last night.  _ Or maybe it’s only a fraudulent text. I won a cruise somewhere or something. My subscription to Vampire Weekly has expired. Anyway, he must have given up by now... nobody is that opinionated or stubborn.  _ Holding his phone tight, as if he was able to feel the arrival of new texts, his mind flew to the car that was following them where John was.  _ I wonder what they are talking about? I’m sure that it was his last text, he must realize that it’s not the right moment to argue. Are they talking about me? About our relationship? Lestrade probably considers himself as an expert on all things vampire now! Is he thinking about me? John, not Lestrade. Maybe John is asking all the questions he wanted to ask me without daring to? How is it possible for the man to be so cheerful when he just became a monster? I will never understand him… And to be in love with my brother… The silliness of it! Did he send more texts? He probably stopped now, no? _

A gentle but firm hand took his phone, “Sherlock,” the elder brother said softly, “read the messages.” Opening the app, he showed the list to the detective without reading them.

> 5:05  Where were you last night?
> 
> 5:07  It was lonely in the bed without you at my side. I love falling asleep in your arms.
> 
> 5:08  Darling, talk to me. It’s going to be okay.
> 
> 5:09  You chose to be in your brother’s car to avoid speaking to me, didn’t you?
> 
> 5:13  Talk to me, damn it!
> 
> 5:16  No, sorry, talk to me if you want to.
> 
> 5:19  But don’t you want to talk to me anymore?
> 
> 5:25  I know
> 
> 5:26  I know that you are afraid for me.
> 
> 5:28  But, that’s not the only thing that troubles you, I know you, wonderful git.
> 
> 5:29  Don’t shut me out.
> 
> 5:41  If I kill Greg because he talks about your brother too much, will you cover for me?
> 
> 5:43  Don’t be.
> 
> 5:43  Afraid for me I mean.
> 
> 5:45  Nothing bad can happen if you’re with me.
> 
> 5:46  One day we will have to have a serious conversation, and you know it.
> 
> 5:47  But now it’s not the time.
> 
> 5:55  Just let me in, please.
> 
> 5:59  I love you.

Sherlock read quickly, then again more slowly. Trying to find the meaning behind the words, behind the delay between some texts. But failing miserably. Unable to resist, he caressed the screen as if it was an extension of John. Then, without thinking, without even looking at the phone…

> 6:15  I love you. Always. SH

Unaware that a few meters further down on the road, half of his soul started breathing again.

They stopped a few hundred meters away from the property, in a secluded area. As soon as they get out of their respective vans, Sherlock and John walked towards each other without losing eye contact for a millisecond. 

“Sherlock –“

“John, I –“

They chuckled, turning their head shyly for a moment. John was the first to regain his bearings. Leaning into Sherlock he sighed as he settled against his shoulder. “Love, I know that you are afraid for me, that you would have preferred for me to stay at Musgrave, but don’t you understand that I am also afraid.”

Huffing, Sherlock muttered, “You don’t seem so afraid.”

Lifting his head to look at the detective, John left a delicate kiss on his lips, “I’m afraid for YOU.”

“For me, that’s ridiculous,” Sherlock protested, clearly offended. “Nothing can happen to me!”

John instantly turned on Captain Watson mode, “Moriarty is a crazy man with access to drugs that killed some of you, did you forget? And anyway, you know that’s bull! Vampire can’t catch any virus or diseases, but you can have wounds –“

“Wounds heal quickly –“

“And a bullet to the heart and the head,” the smaller man objected. “What about that?”

“I, I,” the detective stuttered knowing perfectly that John was right before rolling his eyes. “You have to be really unlucky, admit it!”

“Or in a war with vampires that have been practicing for more than a century how to kill their kind.”

“If you say it like THAT, yes, but, at least admit that you are more fragile!” He dropped a small peck to the top of the blond head, “if something were to happen to –“

“I know, darling, I know… but I want to have your back and maybe people inside need help. I couldn’t stay back when I can be helpful to you. I’m not useless -.”

“You aren’t useless, your clients and coworkers at the clinic venerate and adore you and… you are of the utmost importance to me.”

“Awww, you are the most important person in my life darling, never doubt it.”

“Sometimes, you leave me alone all day because of work, that is inexcusable,” Sherlock pouted.

“When you are  _ venerable _ , you have no choice but to show up from time to time even if I would prefer to be with you!”  _ I will if I were a vampire! The number of things you can do when you gain a whole seven hours a day! _ “And you know, our secretary always brings in homemade biscuits, it’s hard for you to compete with that!”

“I can learn to bake –“

John laughed, pleased that Sherlock was once again arguing with enthusiasm, “oh no you don’t! Not after what you did to our oven!”

“It was an experiment and –“

“Hey! Lovebirds,” Lestrade’s teasing voice called out to them, “the others are here, there’s rime for one last briefing.”

After a small kiss and a quick brush of hands, Sherlock and John walked back to the rest of the group where they were quickly welcomed by the Met tactical team who knows them well.

After one last discussion to confirm that everyone was clear about the plan, they walked in the direction of the manor, using a small path in the wood. It was still early, around 7AM, and everything was quiet save for the sound of their feet and the crackling of the trees. Mycroft and Greg were positioned in the middle of the group, his brother and John were further back with the tactical team.

After a moment, Mycroft asked in a quiet voice. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be with your men?”

“Oh, they are not ‘mine’, special ops has their own rules and objectives, they answer to no one really.,” Lestrade replied, pushing the barely veiled suggestion away. “Besides, as I am the liaison officer for this mission…” he winked at Mycroft, “I need to stay near you to be able to…  _ liaisonate. _ ”

Flustered by the innuendo, the older vampire murmured, “that’s not even a word.”

Satisfied that his meaning was understood, Greg smiled and asked out of nowhere, “you owe me one, you know.”

“What?” Mycroft was clearly taken aback.

“One last question, Mycroft.”

“Right now? Is this really the moment?” Holmes frowned as Greg nodded seriously at him. “Of course then, whatever you want to ask…”

Greg inhaled and exhaled slowly. “What do you want us to become?”

Mycroft nearly skipped a step! “I don’t think it’s really the place–“ He motioned a hand around, “to talk about thing like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s a big question, we don’t have the time, we are surrounded by people…” His voice was so low that it was barely audible even for Lestrade.

“Easy then, reply with one word,” Greg responded to the other man hesitation. “Can’t be quicker than that.”

“But it’s complicated –“

“One word.”

“It’s multi-layered –“

“One word." He smiled. "What do you want us to become?”

Discreetly, Mycroft pressed his delicate fingers into Greg’s hand waiting for him to turn before murmuring, “everything.”

30 minutes later

_ It surprisingly went as well as they could have hoped. _ Sherlock said silently as he remained protectively near John while they penetrated the main room. The only room occupied in the whole manor _. Strangely too well, no guards outside, no one in the corridor, we’ve been here 10 minutes and they are already all corralled here? Something is wrong! _

Frederic’s vampires weren’t fighting, they remained oddly silent as if they were waiting. Until the noise of something heavy falling caused all the armed agents and policemen to take aim quickly.

“No! Please!” The few vampires screamed, falling on their knees. “We surrender.”

“What kind of trickery –“ Sherlock hissed, baring his teeth in anger before John pressed a comforting hand on his arm, to stop him.

“Love,” he murmured, “they look sincere.”

“As if it was possible for –“

“Sir,” one of Mycroft’s men shouted as he entered the room, “we found many corpses in a room at the back of the mansion. All vampires. Your brother is still trying to determine if one of the bodies is Frederic’s. Miss Anthea and a few of my men are with him.”

“What!” The detective exclaimed, walking to the man who looked like the leader of the pack, “what happened?”

“We destroyed anyone who was against a new era,” the young vampire explained, proud of their actions. “The majority of us were fed-up with Frederic’s backward thinking and disgusted by his alliance with Moriarty, so we decided to take matters in our own hands when he was killed.” He was about to explain how they trapped and killed the old-school vampires when he quickly bowed his head in deference, and the others behind him followed his lead. Sherlock was about to press the man for more when he realized that his brother was there.

“Sir,” the head of Mycroft’s security rushed to the entrance as his boss entered the hall, “they surrendered without a fight, no one protested or tried to escape.” He quickly explained how the compound was empty except for the sixty something vampires presently kneeling in front of them.

“This is quite unexpected, brother mine.”

Stepping into the middle of the hall, Mycroft turned on his heel slowly, looking at the mix of men and women. They were mostly in modern dress, the more traditional were probably the ones now dead.  _ What happened, what’s all this?  _ “Who killed Frederic?” When the group remained silent, he repeated with more force. “WHO KILLED FREDERIC?”

The man who had spoken with Sherlock raised his head and replied with a shaky voice. “Moriarty’s man, Moran I think is his name. He came here yesterday morning when he thought that everyone was going to be asleep or too tired. They planned everything, they sent crates and crates of beer and wine the night before to celebrate our  _ association _ ,” the hate for Moriarty was obvious in his tone, “so most of us never realized what happened to Frederic.”

“But you saw who did it… What’s your name?” Mycroft asked, wanting to get all the info possible.

“Not me, no, but a friend of mine,” he turned his eyes in the direction of a slender man standing a few meters behind him. “My name is Robert Taylor, sir, and my community chose me to be their representative.”

“You,” Sherlock questioned to shy man in the back, “how do you know it was Moran?” The memory of Moran attacking John in the cemetery still raw.  _ I hate that bastard! _

“I, I…” he raised slowly worried by the revulsion in the other man’s eyes, “I was going back to get more wine – I was late and missed the few first rounds – when I heard something in the cellar. I realized that it was the king with someone else,” he played nervously with his fingers. “I walked slowly because I didn’t want any trouble. I thought he was probably frolicking with a new girl… when I heard a shout! It was Frederic, he said ‘no, Moran, are you crazy!’ and I realized that he was pleading for his life…” He gulped noisily, troubled by being the center of attention, “after a few minutes, he shouted that he was going to call that criminal, that human, Moriarty, yes, Moriarty to protest if he does not leave at once.”

“But he didn’t…”

“No. He laughed, a laugh… it was the coldest laugh that I ever heard sir, and I have been around for 80 years now. I heard a few gunshots then he left. I was able to hide in a corner as he walked by me without knowing that I was there.”

“And after,” Mycroft asked, curious.

“I rushed to the cellar, but it was too late. The king –“ He stopped as his friends started booing discreetly, “ _ Frederic _ was dead.”

Taylor nodded at his friend and continued, “we brought his corpse in the room where you found the others and quickly assembled.” He turned his head to look if everyone was still on board with him. “We were already exasperated by Frederic and his personal guards’ actions… the association with Moriarty then the assassination was the last push that we needed.”

“So,” Sherlock snickered, “you started a revolution?”

“We knew that we had to move quickly. A few of us started to discreetly wake up the ones we knew to be on our side, one by one. Some of us were already at work – the guards don’t have chores – so it was easy to gather 20 people that were on board and ready to do something. The others, only bystanders but ready for a change. Two of us oversee the cleaning of guns, so it was easy to get access to the armory to get enough weapons.” He paused, “no training required really for what we needed to do.”

“This is brilliant…” the detective exclaimed, impressed. “20 or so guards, 20 or so people ready to do what needed to be done. The more experienced tackling the few guards outside while the others stand by one sleeping guard. And at a fixed time… bang.” He turned to his brother, “well done, really.”

“Sherlock.” John shook his head.

“Not good? But they are criminals!”

“Who deserved a fair trial… and it’s going to be hard to get information about Moran and Moriarty if all of Frederic’s guards are dead!”

Mycroft sighed and motioned Lestrade and his head of security to come closer to him. “We need to get them out of here, do we have a place to hold that many people?”

“Not an issue sir,” Anthea confirmed after checking her phone, “and they are sending a bus right now.”

“Thank you dear, they seem docile for now but…”

“I am not convinced either,” Sherlock agreed, “a crowd like that requires a leader, especially after having had one for so long. That man, Robert Taylor, appears to be a good sort, but you never know.”

“Anthea dear, take care of the bodies also would you, please.” Frowning at the anxious assembly he sighed.  _ Let’s try to do something that we won’t regret later _ . “Get up everyone,” he summoned as the others quickly obey murmuring something that he didn’t catch. “Get in line along the back wall, we are going to get your information for the census. Name, surname, place and year of birth, place and year of v-birth, blood type if known as well as some quick questions about your… diet.” The crowd walked to the other side of the room, chatting nervously.. “ENOUGH CHATTING, calm and order from now on or we will never get out of here before the end of the day!”

The clamor in response was clearly audible now as Sherlock started to laugh while John and Greg remained gobsmacked.

“Oh my God, you are going to be insufferable now, brother mine!” The detective teased before tilting his head in confusion, he had, “or am I still allowed to - ”

“No, no, no, what is that? That won’t do! TAYLOR! Come here!”

The leader crossed the room gingerly, bowing his head in respect.

“What’s  _ that _ , what did I just hear Taylor?” Mycroft asked with his incomparable icy yet posh voice.

“Sir, it’s just that… After that we sent the news that Frederic was dead we remained here, alone for many… many hours without nothing to do and we talked –“

“Thank you for that the rumors said that it was my fault the old man died.”

“Oh, we are so sorry sir, so sorry!” He looked behind him and gathered his courage at the sight of his friends. “For many, the idea to be without a king was troubling… without a leader we were worried what was going to happened to us!”

“You,” Sherlock interrupted, “you are an apt leader Taylor.”

“No… not like that… not to deal with Moriarty and the authority and everything.” He was stuttering slightly now, clearly nervous. “This is why some of us decided that we need a new king and –“

“And?”

“We vote for you,” he bowed earnestly now, “King Mycroft.” The acclamation was instantly repeated by the others.

Sherlock, still laughing, slapped Greg in the back. “How is it feeling, Lestrade, you are a consort now!”

“Shut-up!”

“Yes, shut-up little Prince,” John joked as he joined Sherlock for a second look at the bodies.

Greg stepped near Mycroft as Taylor rushed back in line as the people started to give their info to a makeshift desk quickly put together by Anthea. “What’s going on now?”

Not knowing what to say to the love of his life, Mycroft looked in the direction of his PA… who was currently laughing with Francis at the new development. _ Me, a King. God give me patience, and what am I to say to The Queen! _

The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later I will going back to this series... with the battle against Moriarty, etc 
> 
> Let me know what you think :-)
> 
> Stay safe

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are little gifts from the internet Gods ❤️


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